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LITERARY   LANDMARKS 

OF 

ROME 


BY 


LAURE^XE   HUTTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  LITERARY  LANDMARKS  OF  FLORENCE' 

"literary  landmarks  of  Venice" 

ETC.,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 


^^ 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Harfer  &  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

EDMUND    CLARENCE    STEDMAN 

THE  EARLIEST  PERSONAL  LANDMARK 

IK 

MY   LITERARY   LIFE 


332737 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE    SPANISH    STEPS Frontisfiect 

POMPEY'S    statue Facing  p.  8 

THE    FORUM "  12 

ALBERGO  dell'  ORSO "  1 8 

TASSO'S    GARDEN "  20 

SANTA   MARIA    SOPRA   AUNERVA "  22 

KEATS'S   GRAVE "  34 

SHELLEY'S    GRAVE "  4° 

CONSTANCE  FENIMORE  WOOLSON's  GRAVE   .      .          "  42 

THE   HOUSE    OF   ANDERSEN,  PIAZZA  BARBERINI          "  46 

HILDA'S    TOWER •          "  ^4 


LITERARY   LANDMARKS    OF    ROME 


LITERARY   LANDMARKS   OF 
ROME 


Rome,  like  Venice,  is  merely  the  stopping- 
place  of  the  modern  Man  of  Letters.  Flor- 
ence is  his  home.  He  lives  in  Florence;  he 
lodges  here.  In  Florence  he  buys  a  villa,  or 
he  takes  a  long  lease  of  a  house ;  and  some- 
Mmes  he  engages  a  plot  in  the  Protestant 
Cemetery;  in  Rome  he  usually  stays  at  a 
hotel,  or  he  makes  peiision  arrangements  for 
a  limited  period.  If  he  dies  in  Rome  he  some- 
times leaves  here  only  a  portion  of  his  anat- 
omy, and  he  sends  his  heart,  or  his  ashes,  to 
be  buried  somewhere  else. 

There  are  two  distinct  classes  of  English- 
speaking  visitors  to  Rome,  each  of  whom,  no 
doubt,  are  willing  to  learn  something,  and  to 
see  something,  of  its  Literary  Landmarks. 


The  first  of  these  liave  read  Ruskin  and 
Mrs.  Jameson.     They  think  they  know  all 
about  art ;  while,  unlike  Mr.  Vedder's  beasts 
of  the  fields,  in  too  many  instances,  they  do 
not  even  know  what  they  like.     They  sit  for 
hours  in  rapt  enthusiasm  before  ''  The  Last 
Judgment "  or  before  the  "Apollo  Belvedere," 
looking  at  those  masterpieces  through  little, 
temporary  opera-glasses  made  of  their  own 
fingers,  or  holding  up  their  right  hands  and 
wagging  their  right  thumbs,  in  that  peculiar 
manner  which  is  supposed  to  denote  high- 
art  appreciation,  and  which  must  be  familiar 
to  all  students  of  the  students  of  art.     They 
gather  a  great   deal   of  satisfaction   out   of 
Rome,  and  they  go  away  from  it  perfectly 
content  with  their  own  familiarity  with  all 
its  rich  artistic  treasures.     The  second  class 
of  visitors  skim  through  the  galleries  and  the 
churches  of  Rome  as  if  on  parlor-skates,  and 
in  a  bored-to-death-sick-and-tired-of-the-Old- 
Masters  sort  of  way,  Avhich  is  as  sincere  as  it 
is  self-evident  and  is  ingenuously  expressed. 
They  are  always  heartily  thankful  when  it 
is  all  over,  and  they  utter  a  sigh  of  absolute 


relief  when  they  learn  that  they  have  gone 
somewhere  on  the  wrong  day,  and  have  ab- 
solutely no  other  day  on  which  to  go.  For 
both  these  classes  —  traditional  sight -seers 
both,  and  both  of  them  worthy  of  all  re- 
spect— is  here  given  some  idea  of  what  the 
men  who  made  Rome  did  in  Rome,  and  of 
how  and  where  they  did  it,  from  Cicero  and 
Caesar  to  Shelley  and  Keats,  in  the  hope 
and  belief  that  the  tourist  will  get  as  much 
out  of  Horace  and  Hawthorne  in  Rome  as 
out  of  Raphael  and  Salvator  Rosa,  or  out 
of  Donatello  and  Carlo  Dolci. 

It  is,  of  course,  no  longer  possible  to  point 
out  the  exact  Landmarks  of  the  Literary 
Romans  of  twenty  centuries  ago,  when  Bal- 
bus  and  his  mysterious  contemporary  —  a 
gentleman  always  addressed  as  "  Thou  " — 
were  accustomed  to  lift  up  their  hands,  for 
some  unknown  and  seemingly  utterly  use- 
less reason,  and  to  the  great  confusion  of 
our  tenses,  persons,  and  numbers  in  our 
Latin  Prose  Compositions.  Cicero  and  Tac- 
itus, and  Cato  and  Sallust,  and  even  Julius 
Caesar,  have  left  but  few  footprints  on  the 


sands  of  Rome ;  and  these  Darwin's  oblit- 
erating earth-worm  and  the  ravages  of  Time 
have  wiped  out  almost  entirely. 

Not  pretending  to  any  knowledge  of  anti- 
quarian lore,  the  present  literary  pilgrim,  in 
this  portion  of  his  narrative,  must  depend 
upon  the  antiquarian  knowledge  of  Mr.  Au- 
gustus J.  C.  Hare,  of  Dr.  S.  Russell  Forbes, 
of  the  late  Professor  J.  Henry  Middleton, 
and  of  Signor  Rodolfo  Lanciani ;  only  add- 
ing that  he  himself  has  seen,  or  has  tried  to 
see,  everything  which  they  point  out,  and 
that  he  sees,  and  has  attempted  to  see,  no 
reason  to  doubt  the  truth  of  their  researches. 
Without  their  aid  he  would  have  been  lost 
in  ancient  Rome ;  and  to  them  he  begs  to 
extend  here  his  most  sincere  thanks. 

Dr.  Forbes  believes  that  Cicero's  house, 
under  the  Palatine,  was  above  that  of  Caesar ; 
that  Cicero  made  his  first  oration  against 
Catiline  in  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Stator,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Palatine  Hill,  and  he  places 
Cicero's  Tusculan  Villa  on  the  site  of  what 
is  now  a  Greek  monastery,  the  Grotta  Fer- 
rata.    He  adds  that  Cicero  mentions  statues 


of  the  Muses  which  stood  in  his  hbrary,  and 
that  these  statues  were  actually  found  there 
many  centuries  later.  It  was  here  that  Cic- 
ero laid  the  scenes  of  his  De  Divinatione 
and  Tuscidancs  Dispiitatioiies ;  and  here  he 
received  the  news  of  his  proscription. 

It  is  also  recorded  that  Cicero  was  more 
than  once  entertained  by  Lucullus  in  that 
famous  villa  which  stood  on  the  southwest- 
ern side  of  the  Pincian  Hill;  and  that  upon 
his  return  from  banishment,  fifty-seven  years 
before  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  Era,  he 
was  received  in  triumph  by  the  Senate  and 
the  People  of  Rome  (S.  P.  Q.  R.)  at  the  Porta 
Capena,  on  the  Appian  Way. 

After  his  assassination  the  head  and  the 
hands  of  Cicero  were  placed  upon  the  Ros- 
tra, a  temporary  structure  which  stood  in 
the  Forum  in  front  of  the  Curia,  where  it  is 
recorded  that  Fulvia,  the  widow  of  Clodius, 
spat  in  his  dead  face,  and  added  injury  to 
insult,  in  a  truly  unfeminine  way,  but  with  a 
truly  feminine  weapon,  by  sticking  her  hair- 
pin through  his  speechless  tongue. 

All   students  will   remember   that    Julius 


Caesar  announced  that  all  Gaul  was  divided 
into  three  parts,  each  of  which,  with  all  the 
gall  in  his  possession,  he  attached  to  him- 
self. This  celebrated  Man  of  Letters,  against 
the  advice  of  his  wife,  Calpurnia,  went  out 
to  meet  his  fate  on  a  famous  March  morn- 
ing, from  the  Regia,  close  to  the  Temple  of 
Vesta  in  the  Forum  ;  and  here  his  widow  re- 
ceived his  body,  brought  back  with  all  its 
gaping  wounds  by  a  few  of  his  faithful  slaves. 
Alas  ?  it  was  too  late  for  her  to  tell  him  that 
she  had  told  him  so ;  but  no  doubt,  in  all 
her  great  grief,  she  thought  it. 

Mr.  Forbes  says  that  Caesar  lived  in  the 
first  house  in  the  Via  Sacra.  He  describes 
it  as  fronting  towards  the  Temple  of  Vesta; 
while  the  portico  and  shops,  built  at  a  later 
period  over  its  ruins,  ran  parallel  with  the 
Sacred  Way.  The  house-side  of  the  atrium, 
he  continues,  is  plainly  marked  by  the  frag- 
ments of  columns,  composed  of  travertine 
coated  with  stucco  and  frescoed;  and  amidst 
the  shops  are  remains  of  a  beautiful  black 
and  white  mosaic  pavement,  the  fragments 
of  the  borders  showing  that  they  once  be- 


longed  to  the  older  edifice.  The  mansion 
had  two  entrances  into  the  Via  Sacra,  one 
nearly  touching  its  northeastern  corner. 

Csesar  was  not  killed  in  the  Capitol,  as 
Shakspere  said.  What  Hamlet  called  that 
Brute  part  was  played  in  Pompey's  Senate 
House,  or  the  Theatre  of  Pompey  —  the 
church  of  S.  Andrea  della  Valle,  on  the  new 
thoroughfare  called  Corso  Vittorio  Emanu- 
ele,  now  standing  upon  its  site.  Mr.  Forbes 
explains  that  the  great  star  beneath  the  cu- 
pola marks,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  spot 
upon  which  the  autocrat  fell.  As  the  de- 
posed Bonaparte  lies  under  the  dome  of 
the  Invahdes,  in  Paris,  so  rises,  in  Rome,  a 
dome  over  the  place  where  another,  if  not 
a  greater,  conqueror  was  extinguished. 

Pompey's  Statue,  a  colossal,  not  ungain- 
ly figure  of  a  man,  at  the  feet  of  which 
great  Caesar  fell,  is  believed  generally  to  be 
now  standing  in  the  Palazzo  Spada  alia  Re- 
gola,  in  the  Piazza  Capo  di  Ferro.  It  is 
placed  in  what  is  called  the  council-chamber 
of  the  palace ;  and  what  are  said  to  be  the 
stains  of  great  Caesar's  blood  are  still  visible 


upon  the  calf  of  Pompey's  left  leg.  Mr.  Hare 
quotes  Suetonius  as  narrating  that  the  statue 
"was  removed  from  the  Curia  by  Augustus, 
and  placed  upon  a  marble  Janus  in  front  of 
the  basilica";  and  the  same  authority — Mr. 
Hare — adds  that  "  it  was  found  upon  that  ex- 
act spot  during  the  pontificate  of  Julius  HI." 
[1550-55].  Whether  this  be  the  original 
figure  of  Pompey  or  not,  it  has  been  ad- 
dressed by  Byron  as  "  Thou  dread  statue  ! 
yet  existent  in  the  austerest  form  of  naked 
mystery";  and  it  has  been  accepted  and 
apostrophized  by  many  other  well-known 
writers  of  prose  and  of  verse  as  being  au- 
thentic. And  while  I  am  willing  to  accept 
it  myself,  I  must  put  myself  on  record  as 
doubting  somewhat  the  stains  of  Cesar's 
blood. 

Although  the  art  treasures  of  the  Spada 
Palace  are  not  visible  to-day,  except  by 
special  permission  of  the  existing  head  of 
the  Spada  family,  the  porter  at  the  gate 
will,  for  a  small  gratuity,  admit  the  stranger 
to  the  hall  upon  the  second  fioor  where  the 
dread  statue  stands.     And  it  is  worth  re- 


>       ?      '     ,     '      '        ^', 


POMPEY  S    STATUE 


cording,  as  an  interesting  and  characteristic 
fact,  that  the  French  in  the  winter  of  1788-89 
carried  this  figure  to  the  Colosseum,  where 
they  enacted  Voltaire's  tragedy  of  Brutus, 
in  accents  unborn  in  Brutus's  time,  and 
where  they  murdered  Csesar  once  more  at 
its  base.  This  was  a  performance  which 
could  only  have  been  equalled  by  the  enter- 
tainment which  Colonel  William  F.  Cody, 
with  his  Wild  West  Show,  wished  to  give,  a 
century  later,  on  the  same  spot. 

"■  The  statue  is  entirely  nude,"  said  Haw- 
thorne, "  except  for  a  cloak  that  hangs  down 
from  the  left  shoulder ;  in  the  left  hand  is 
held  a  globe ;  the  right  arm  is  extended. 
The  whole  expression  is  such  as  the  statue 
might  have  assumed,  if,  during  the  tumult 
of  Caesar's  murder,  it  had  stretched  forth  its 
marble  hand  and  motioned  the  conspirators 
to  give  over  the  attack,  or  to  be  quiet,  now 
that  their  victim  had  fallen  at  its  feet.  On 
the  left  leg,  about  midway  above  the  ankle, 
there  is  a  dull  red  stain,  said  to  be  Caesar's 
blood  ;  but,  of  course,  it  is  just  such  a  red 
stain  in  the  marble  as  may  be  seen  on  the 


lO 


statue  of  Antinous  at  the  Capitol.  ...  I  am 
glad  to  have  seen  this  statue,  and  glad  to 
remember  it  in  that  gray,  dim,  lofty  hall ; 
glad  that  there  were  no  bright  frescos  on 
the  walls,  and  that  the  ceiling  was  wrought 
with  massive  beams  and  the  floor  paved 
with  ancient  brick." 

Mark  Antony  delivered  his  famous  funer- 
al oration  on  the  Rostra  Julia,  on  the  east- 
ern side  of  the  Forum.  The  ancient  writers 
tell  us  how  greatly  it  moved  the  people, 
who  immediately  burned  the  body  in  that 
very  place,  and  afterwards  interred  the  ash- 
es there ;  but  they  do  not  report  Antony's 
words.  That  they  could  hardly  be  more 
moving  than  were  the  words  put  into  An- 
tony's mouth  by  Shakspere  all  reporters  of 
great  speeches,  in  the  present  day,  must 
assuredly  admit.  The  Temple  of  Caesar, 
which  was  erected  on  his  funeral  pile,  Signor 
Lanciani  says,  was  destroyed  in  1546.  It  is 
now  an  unmarked  mass  of  rough  and  broken 
stones. 

The  Temple  of  Csesar  and  Caesar's  house, 
and  the  other  intensely  interesting  features 


II 


of  the  Forum,  are  not  easily  distinguished 
by  the  present  pilgrim,  even  with  the  aid  of 
the  clearest  of  plans.  Small  tablets  stating 
"  Here  Caesar  Lived "  or  "  Here  Caesar 
Died,"  or  here  happened  this,  or  here  hap- 
pened that,  historical  event,  would  be  of 
great  help  to  the  inquiring  tourist  of  to-day. 
If  Keats  and  Scott  and  Goethe  are  so  hon- 
ored by  the  municipality  of  Rome,  why 
should  not  the  homes  of  the  men  of  earlier 
times  have  some  mark  to  distinguish  their 
occupancy? 

Very  few  spots  in  the  world  are  more 
impressive  than  is  this  same  Roman  Forum. 
Here  one  walks,  by  means  of  a  few  modern 
wooden  steps,  out  of  the  End  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century  into  a  space  dating  back  to 
a  period  when  there  were  no  centuries  at 
all,  as  we  count  them  ;  to  a  period  which 
was  old  before  the  Middle  Ages  were  born. 
And  in  the  Forum,  even  more  strongly  than 
at  the  Pyramids  themselves,  is  one  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  art  is  short,  and  that  time 
is  fleeting. 

The  villa  and  the   gardens  of  Sallust,  a 


12 


literary  gentleman  not  unknown  to  the  stu- 
dents of  the  dead  languages  in  the  high- 
schools  of  most  living  countries,  Professor 
Middleton  placed  in  the  Barberini  Villa  gar- 
dens, in  the  valley  between  the  Quirinal 
and  the  Pincian  Hills.  It  was  probably  de- 
stroyed, he  said,  in  the  fire  of  410,  but  he 
traced  certain  portions  of  it  which  are  still 
remaining ;  and  he  described  a  nobly  de- 
signed hall  once  lined  with  rich  marble,  and 
decorated  with  statues,  handsome  staircases, 
and  the  like.  Its  site  is  gradually  being 
covered  with  the  brand-new  buildings  which 
are  fast  making  this  part  of  Rome  as  mod- 
ern as  is  modern  New  York  or  modern  Paris. 
It  is  approached  by  horse-cars,  it  is  lighted 
by  electricity,  and  it  is  surrounded  by  ho- 
tels, which  look  like  the  Fifth  Avenue  and 
the  Continental,  and  are  quite  as  comforta- 
ble and  quite  as  expensive  as  are  these  fa- 
miliar hostelries  of  modern  times. 

Virgil  is  said  to  have  lived  on  the  Esqui- 
line  Hill,  near  the  gardens  of  Maecenas  ;  and 
Horace  is  known  to  have  been  a  constant 
guest   in   the   villa    of   Maecenas,  which   he 


>   J  1  »    >     >  » 


13 


has  frequently  described.  Signer  Lanciani 
points  out  the  very  interesting  fact  that 
Horace  bought  his  books  of  the  dealers  in 
ancient  and  modern  literature  who  did  busi- 
ness in  the  Argiletum,  a  quarter  situated  be- 
tween the  Roman  Forum  and  the  Suburra, 
and  corresponding  to  the  Paternoster  Row  or 
the  Nassau  Street  of  modern  literary  towns. 

The  authorities  agree  that  Maecenas,  whose 
hospitality  has  become  proverbial,  enter- 
tained the  poets  of  the  Augustan  Age  in  a 
house  which  stood  upon  the  Esquiline  Hill, 
where  the  Baths  of  Titus  were  afterwards 
placed  ;  Mr.  Forbes  adding  the  interesting 
fact  that  the  amiable  and  harmonic  Nero 
saw  the  burning  of  Rome,  to  the  slow  music 
of  his  own  violin,  from  a  tower  of  this  villa. 

Pliny  is  supposed  to  have  lived  on  the 
summit  of  the  Vicus  Cyprius,  probably  on 
the  Via  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  in  a  little  house 
previously  occupied  by  another  poet,  one 
Pedo  Albinovanus.  The  exact  site  of  this 
house  is  not  known  now,  and  the  majority 
of  the  authorities  do  not  mention  it  at  all. 

Petrarch  is  said  to  have  been  a  guest  of 


14 

the  head  of  the  Colonna  family  during  at 
least  one  of  his  visits  to  Rome ;  but  as  the 
present  palace  bearing  the  Colonna  name  is 
a  century  later  than  the  time  of  Petrarch, 
the  poet  naturally  could  not  have  known  it. 
It  stands  not  far  from  the  site  of  the  ancient 
fortress  which  the  earlier  Colonnas  occupied, 
and  perhaps  Petrarch  went  from  this  fortress, 
in  1341,  to  receive  the  laurel  crown  in  the 
great  Senate  Hall  on  the  Capitol  Hill.  He 
had  much  to  say  about  Rome  and  about 
what  seemed  to  him  its  decadence.  He 
found  here  neither  repose  nor  content ;  civil 
and  foreign  wars  were  desolating  the  land ; 
houses  were  sinking ;  walls  were  falling  to 
the  ground  ;  temples  and  shrines  were  yield- 
ing to  decay ;  laws  were  trampled  under 
foot;  justice  was  a  prey  to  violence;  and 
the  unhappy  people  sighed  and  groaned ;  all 
because  Pope  Urban  V.  was  at  Avignon,  and 
there  were  no  good  Humbert  and  charming 
Margaret,  with  their  strong  common-sense 
and  their  kindliness  of  heart,  to  make  Rome 
what  it  is  to-day,  a  city  of  peace  and  of  out- 
ward prosperity,  wisely  and  justly  governed, 


15 

and  occupied  by  a  people  happy  and  well 
pleased  with  themselves  and  with  their 
rulers. 

Luther  came  to  Rome  when  he  was 
twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  years  of  age, 
and  he  remained  here  but  two  short  weeks. 
No  man  ever  hated  Rome  as  Luther  hated 
it,  not  for  itself,  but  for  its  influences ;  and 
during  the  rest  of  his  life  he  wrote  and  spoke 
of  Rome  in  the  strongest  terms  of  disgust  and 
condemnation.  Rome  thoroughly  weaned 
him  from  Rome,  and  made  him  the  Pope  of 
the  Heretics  of  his  time.  And  out  of  Rome 
he  carried  nothing  that  was  comforting,  ex- 
cept the  feeling  that  if  he  had  not  had  his 
fortnight  in  Rome  he  never  would  have  be- 
lieved that  Rome  and  the  Romans  could  be 
half  so  bad  as  he  was  now  convinced  they 
were.  His  thoughts  and  reflections  upon 
the  Eternal  City,  therefore,  can  hardly  be 
recommended  as  sympathetic  reading-matter 
to  the  enthusiastic  pilgrims  of  the  present 
time. 

Luther  while  here  was  an  inhabitant  of 
the  Augustine  Convent,  adjoining  the  church 


i6 

of  S.  Maria  del  Popolo  ;  and  he  is  said  to 
have  occupied  the  rooms  which  are  now  the 
offices  of  the  Director  of  the  Parks  and 
Gardens  of  Rome.  They  are,  of  course,  en- 
tirely changed,  in  furniture  and  in  appear- 
ance, since  Luther's  day. 

Mr.  Hare,  who  quotes  so  happily  always, 
quotes  the  author  of  The  Schonberg-Cotta 
Chro7iicles  as  describing  how  Luther,  on  his 
knees,  as  is  the  invariable  rule,  climbed,  pain- 
fully, up  the  Holy  Staircase,  or  the  ''  Scala 
Santa";  ''when  he  suddenly  stood  erect, 
lifted  his  face  heavenward,  and  in  another 
instant  turned  and  walked  slowly  and  de- 
liberately down  again."  This  was  a  way  of 
Luther's  throughout  life ;  and  if  the  story  be 
true — it  seems  to  be  founded  on  fact — Lu- 
ther's are  the  only  feet  which  have  touched 
those  holy  steps  since  the  days  of  Pontius 
Pilate  ;  when,  says  tradition,  they  were  trod 
— in  Pilate's  house  at  Jerusalem  —  by  the 
sacred  feet  of  the  Messiah  Himself.  They 
are  now  covered  with  boards,  beneath  which, 
however,  the  original  marble  —  said  to  be 
Italian  marble  —  is  still  visible;  and  at  all 


17 

hours  of  the  day,  and  on  every  day  of  the 
week,  pilgrims  of  all  ages,  of  both  sexes,  and 
of  every  condition  of  life,  babies  and  aged  per- 
sons, beggars  and  princes,  side  by  side,  may 
be  seen  toiling  painfully  on  their  knees  from 
the  bottom  to  the  top,  saying  a  prayer  on 
every  one  of  the  twenty-eight  steps.  Con- 
cerning the  divine  association  of  these  steps 
tradition  only  can  be  relied  upon,  but  mil- 
lions of  earnest  Christians,  Luther  among 
them,  have  made  their  ascent  during  the 
hundreds  of  years  in  which  they  have  been 
where  they  are ;  and  they  are  of  great  inter- 
est now,  for  Luther's  sake,  if  for  no  other. 

The  register  of  the  Albergo  dell'  Orso,  if 
that  once  famous  Bear  Hotel  ever  had  a 
register,  would  be  not  only  of  enormous 
value,  as  a  collection  of  autographs,  but  of 
great  help  to  the  literary  pilgrim  in  Rome 
to-day.  The  inn  stood  for  centuries  on  the 
same  spot,  in  the  Via  dell' Orso;  it  was  al- 
ways in  the  hotel  business,  central,  command- 
ing, fashionable,  and  comfortable,  as  the  ad- 
vertisements would  say ;  and,  in  the  height 
of   its   glory  and  prosperity,  it  entertained 


i8 

guests  of  the  greatest  distinction  in  all 
walks  of  life,  and  from  all  parts  of  the  globe. 
Montaigne  slept  under  its  roof,  and  it  is 
even  claimed  for  it  that  Dante  made  it  his 
home  when  he  came — if  he  ever  did  come — 
as  the  Ambassador  of  Florence  to  the  Pope 
of  Rome,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Fourteenth 
Century;  although  this  is  mere  conjecture. 
The  building  condemned  to  demolition  still 
stood,  in  its  shabby  old  age,  frequented  by 
peasants,  when  I  last  saw  it ;  but  it  was  en- 
tirely unnoticed  by  the  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  tourists  who  passed  it  on  their  way 
to  and  from  St.  Peter's.  Its  massive  vaults 
and  fine  old  columns  were  once  the  delight 
of  the  artists.  And  Lord  Herbert  of  Cher- 
bury  mentioned  it,  fondly,  in  more  than  one 
of  his  letters. 

Montaigne  kept  a  journal  of  his  advent- 
ures in,  and  his  impressions  of,  Rome  during 
his  stay  here  in  the  winter  of  1580-81.  He 
regretted  that  nothing  was  left  of  ancient 
Rome  but  the  sky  above  it  and  the  outline 
of  its  form ;  but  he  was  delighted  with  its 
climate  and  its  society;  and  he   confessed 


ALBERGO    dell'  ORSO 


19 


that  he  had  never  breathed  air  more  tem- 
perate or  better  suited  to  his  constitution. 
This  latter,  it  may  be  remarked,  could  not 
have  been  written  truthfully  during  many 
of  the  winter  months  of  the  last  few  years. 

Montaigne  arrived  in   Rome  on  the  30th 
November,    1580,  and    went    to    the   Bear, 
where  he  stayed  that  day  and  the  next,  but 
on  the  2d  December  he  hired  apartments  at 
the  house  of  a  Spaniard  opposite  the  church 
of  S.  Lucia  della  Tinta,  where  he  was  pro- 
vided   with    three    handsome    bedrooms,  a 
dining-room,  a  closet,  stable,  and  kitchen,  for 
twenty  crowns  a  month,  the  landlord  includ- 
ing  in  that    sum   a   cook  and   fire   for   the 
kitchen.    He  had  an  audience  with  the  Pope, 
witnessed  the  execution  of  Catena,  a  famous 
robber  and  captain  of  banditti,  which  he  called 
"a  spectacle,"  and  he  found  the  winter  nearly 
as  cold  as  that  of  Gascony.     His  account  of 
one  of   the   many  sights   he   saw  is   worth 
quoting  in  full.     "  On  Easter  Eve,"  he  said, 
"  I  went   to   see,  at    S.  John  Lateran,  the 
heads  of  S.  Paul  and  S.  Peter,  which  are  ex- 
hibited there  on  that  day.     The  heads  are 


20 


entire,  with  the  hair,  flesh,  color,  and  beard 
as  if  they  still  lived.  S.  Peter  has  a  long 
face,  with  a  brilliant  complexion  approaching 
the  sanguine,  with  a  gray  picked  beard,  and 
a  papal  mitre  on  his  head.  S.  Paul  is  of  a 
dark  complexion,  with  a  broader  and  fuller 
face,  a  large  head,  and  a  thick  gray  beard." 

Tasso  died,  and  was  buried,  in  1595,  in  the 
monastery  of  S.  Onofrio,  on  the  side  of  the 
Janiculum,  a  hill  rising  above  the  right  bank 
of  the  Tiber,  where  he  sought  refuge  and 
rest  and  the  laurel  crown.  Refuge  and  rest 
he  found ;  but  the  crown  was  not  placed 
upon  his  brow  until  his  life  had  ebbed  away. 
His  room,  containing  his  relics,  and  a  mask, 
in  wax,  of  his  dead  face,  suffered  so  much 
from  the  great  powder  explosion  which 
shook  all  Rome  a  few  years  ago  that  it  has 
been  closed  by  order  of  the  government,  has 
been  sealed  with  the  seals  of  the  city,  and  is 
no  longer  shown  to  the  public.  Tasso  was 
originally  buried  on  the  left  side  of  the  con- 
vent church,  under  an  altar-tomb  containing 
his  painted  portrait  and  a  Latin  inscription, 
which  still  remain.     But,  in  1857,  his  bones 


TA5S0  S    GARDEN 


21 


were  removed  to  an  adjoining  chapel,  where, 
under  a  more  magnificent  tomb,  ornamented 
by  a  marble  statue,  they  now  lie. 

In  the  convent  garden  still  stands  a  son 
of  "  Tasso's  Oak,"  the  tree  which  the  poet 
himself  planted  there  having  ended  its  long 
life  in  a  disastrous  gale  some  half-centur)' 
ago.  In  this  beautiful  garden  Tasso  was 
fond  of  sitting,  when  the  weather  and  his 
feeble  health  permitted,  with  a  beautiful 
vista  of  old  Rome  at  his  feet,  and  with  the 
Alban  and  the  Sabine  hills  beyond.  The 
monks  are  still  very  proud  of  their  associa- 
tion with  the  great  Italian;  and  the  bare- 
footed, bareheaded  brother  who  took  us 
throui^h  the  church  one  brio-ht  December 
day  suggested  so  strongly,  in  personal  ap- 
pearance and  in  voice,  Mr.  Francis  Wilson, 
the  comedian,  that  we  felt  as  if  we  were 
assisting  at  the  representation  of  a  new 
drama,  in  which  the  well-known  actor  was, 
for  the  first  time,  playing  a  serious  part,  and 
playing  it  with  rare  skill  and  tender,  tragic 
feeling. 

Galileo  was  tried  in  the  Convent  of  S.  Ma- 


22 


ria  sopra  Minerva  here,  in  the  Piazza  della 
Minerva,  a  Christian  church  erected  in  the 
Thirteenth  Century  upon  the  ruins  of  a  tem- 
ple to  the  heathen  goddess  whose  name, 
in  part,  it  bears.  He  was  conveyed  to 
Rome  from  Florence  in  the  depths  of  a 
heavy  winter — and  winter  between  Florence 
and  Rome  can  be  heavy  enough,  when  it  is 
so  determined — and  he  was,  probably,  tort- 
ured for  persisting  in  the  statement  that  the 
world  goes  round.  That  it  has  gone  round 
far  enough  to  realize  that  Galileo  was  right 
is  now  universally  acknowledged. 

Milton,  after  leaving  Galileo  in  Florence, 
spent  some  time  in  Rome  in  the  autumn  of 
1638,  '*  detained  here  by  the  antiquity  and  an- 
cient renown  of  the  city."  Unfortunately  he 
left  no  record  of  his  impressions  here,  or  of 
what  he  did  or  saw.  He  is  perhaps  the  only 
Man  of  Letters  who  ever  visited  the  Eternal 
City  without  telling,  in  prose,  to  the  world 
what  he  thought  about  it;  and  his  pictures 
of  Rome  written  in  Paradise  Regained  might 
have  been  the  work  of  a  man  who  had  never 
seen   Rome   at   all.     George  S.  Hillard  said 


23 

that  Milton  "  was  received  by  Cardinal  Bar- 
berini  in  an  unpretending  house  with  many 
green  blinds,  in  the  Via  Quattro  Fontane,  at 
the  corner  made  by  the  street  which  leads 
from  the  Quirinal  Palace  to  the  Porta  Pia," 
and  that  there  he  saw  and  heard  Leonora 
Baroni,  who  was  the  Patti  of  her  day,  and 
who  pleased  him  so  greatly  by  her  vocal  and 
personal  charms  that  he  indited  to  her  eye- 
brows no  less  than  three  Latin  epigrams. 

**  I  must  not  forget,"  wrote  Hawthorne,  in 
1858,  "that  on  our  way  from  the  Barberini 
Palace  we  stopped  an  instant  to  look  at  the 
house  at  the  corner  of  the  Street  of  the 
Four  Fountains  where  Milton  was  a  guest 
while  in  Rome.  He  seems  quite  a  man  of 
our  own  day,  seen  so  nearly  at  the  hither 
extremity  of  the  vista  through  which  we 
look  back.  The  house  (it  was  then  occu- 
pied by  the  Cardinal  Barberini)  looks  as  if 
it  might  have  been  built  in  the  present 
century." 

There  is  a  tradition  that  Milton,  despite 
his  advanced  Puritanism,  was  entertained 
sumptuously  by  the  monks  in  the   English 


24 


College    at    Rome    on    the    31st    October, 
1638. 

John  Evelyn  wrote  in  his  Diary :  "  I  came 
to  Rome  on  the  4th  November,  1644,  about 
five  at   night;    and   being  perplexed   for   a 
convenient  lodging,  wandered  up  and  down 
on  horseback,  till  at  last  one  conducted  us 
to  Monsieur  Petit's,  a  Frenchman,  near  the 
Piazza  Spagnola  \sic\.     Here  I  alighted,  and 
having  bargained  with  my  host  for  twenty 
crowns  a  month,  I  caused  a  good  fire  to  be 
made  in  my  chamber,  and  went  to  bed  be- 
ing so  very  wet.     The  next  morning  (for  I 
was  determined  to  spend  no  time  idly  here) 
I  got  acquainted  with  several  persons  who 
have  long  lived  in  Rome.  ...  In  the  first 
place,  our  sights-man  (for  so  they  name  cer- 
tain  persons  here  who  get  their  living  by 
leading  strangers  about  to  see  the  city)  went 
to  the  Palace  Farnese,"  etc.,  etc.      And  so 
saw  Evelyn  all  the  sights  in  the  true  tourist's 
way,  his  sights-man  carrying  him  to  look  at 
everything  which  we  who  have  come  after 
him,  for  two  centuries  and  a  half,  have  con- 
scientiously "  done." 


25 

He  left  Rome  for  a  tour  through  the 
neighboring  country,  and  returned  on  the 
13th  February,  1645.  On  the  i8th  May  he 
wrote,  "  Having  taken  leave  of  our  friends 
at  Rome,  where  I  had  sojourned  now  about 
seven  months,  autumn,  winter,  and  spring,  I 
took  coach  with  two  courteous  Italian  gentle- 
men." There  is  no  room  to  record  here  his 
feelings  or  impressions.  But  to  Evelyn,  as 
to  all  the  rest  of  us,  since  Rome  was,  Rome 
was — Rome ! 

Gray,  who  was  in  Rome  in  1739-40,  con- 
fessed that  the  magnificence  of  the  city  far 
exceeded  his  expectation  of  it.  He  entered 
by  the  gat6  of  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and 
spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  the  views  in  every 
street  or  square,  which  he  declared  the  most 
picturesque  and  noble  ever  imagined.  He 
was  the  companion  of  Horace  Walpole, 
but  neither  of  them  gave  any  of  the  particu- 
lars of  his  visit,  except  that  Walpole  wrote: 
"  How  I  like  the  inanimate  part  of  Rome  you 
will  soon  perceive  at  my  arrival  in  England. 
I  am  far  gone  in  medals,  lamps,  idols,  prints, 
and  all  the  small  commodities  to  the  pur- 


26 

chase  of  which  I  can  attain.  I  would  buy 
the  Colosseum  if  I  could." 

Smollett  lived  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  in 
1765,  where  for  a  decent  first  floor,  and  for 
two  bedrooms  on  the  second  floor,  he  paid 
no  more  than  one  scudo  per  diem. 

During  Goethe's  visit  to  Rome  in  1786  he 
lived  in  an  apartment  in  the  long  house  num- 
bered 1 5  to  20  Via  del  Corso,  a  few  doors  from 
the  Piazza  del  Popolo  end  of  that  thorough- 
fare, and  on  the  western  side  of  the  way. 
The  entrance  is  at  No.  18  Via  del  Corso, 
and  the  tablet  commemorating  Goethe's  oc- 
cupancy is  under  the  second-story  window  of 
No.  20.  Of  his  experiences  here  he  wrote 
that  he  was  at  last  living  in  serenity  and  in 
peace ;  his  acquired  habit  of  seeing  and  in- 
terpreting all  things  as  they  are,  his  fidelity 
in  keeping  the  eye  light,  his  complete  re- 
nunciation of  all  pretension  standing  him  in 
good  stead,  according  to  his  own  statement, 
and  making  him  tranquilly  and  deeply  happy. 
He  certainly  saw  all  things  that  Rome  had 
to  show  him,  in  the  way  of  palaces  and  ruins, 
gardens   and   wastes,  triumphal   arches,  col- 


27 

umns,  and  cathedrals,  and  he  interpreted 
them  all  in  his  own  way.  No  doubt  he  kept 
his  eye  light,  and  he  unquestionably  re- 
nounced all  pretension,  by  what  he  called 
''  an  odd  and  perhaps  whimsical  half-incog- 
nito," which  seems  to  have  deceived  nobody 
but  himself,  and  to  have  had  no  effect  what- 
ever upon  anybody.  His  self-imposed  title 
was ''  The-man-who-lives-across-the-way-from- 
the-Rondinini-Palace  ";  and  as  such  he  fan- 
cied that  he  had  managed  to  escape  the  end- 
less inconvenience  of  being  obliged  to  give 
an  account  of  himself  and  of  his  wonderful 
performances.  What  the  Romans  thought 
of  him  then — he  was  only  thirty-seven  years 
of  age — and  of  his  Sorrows  of  Voting  Werther, 
his  complete  renunciation  of  all  pretension, 
alas!  will  never  permit  us  to  know. 

Hillard  said,  and  very  prettily,  that 
"  Goethe  painted  Rome  while  Chateaubriand 
set  it  to  music";  and  he  translated  Chateau- 
briand's ''sonata"  on  "Rome  by  Moon- 
light," which  is  well  worth  quoting  here : 
*'  Rome  is  asleep  in  the  midst  of  her  ruins. 
This  star  of  the  night,  this  orb  which  is  sup- 


28 

posed  to  be  extinguished  and  unpeopled, 
moves  through  her  pale  solitudes,  above  the 
solitude  of  Rome.  She  shines  upon  the 
streets  without  inhabitants,  upon  enclosed 
spaces,  open  squares,  and  gardens  in  which 
no  one  walks,  upon  monasteries  where  the 
voices  of  monks  are  no  longer  heard,  upon 
cloisters  which  are  as  deserted  as  the  arches 
of  the  Colosseum."  Read  this  by  the  light 
of  the  moon  in  Rome,  and  it  will  soothe 
one's  breast,  no  matter  how  savage  it  may- 
be against  the  beggary  and  wretchedness 
and  extortions  of  some  of  the  persons  who 
dwell  in  Rome  to-night. 

Bonaparte  sent  Chateaubriand  to  Rome 
as  Secretary  of  Legation  in  1803,  and  he 
lived,  no  doiibt,  in  the  Palace  of  Cardinal 
Fesch,  the  French  Ambassador. 

Those  of  us  who  have  wept  over  the  woes 
of  Virginius  as  Sheridan  Knowles  put  them 
into  blank  verse,  and  as  Forrest  and  McCul- 
lough  made  them  seem  so  real  to  us  on  the 
mimic  stage,  will  feel  a  certain  sensation  of 
interest  in  standing  opposite  the  shrine  of 
Venus,  at  the  corner  of  the  Vicus  Tuscus 


29 

and  the  Via  Sacra,  where  stood  the  butcher's 
stall  from  which  came  the  knife  that  took 
Virginia's  life  and  saved  her  honor.  Dr. 
Forbes  says  that  "  facing  up  the  Vicus  Tus- 
cus  is  some  brickwork — remains  of  a  line  of 
shops  that  faced  towards  the  Temple  of 
Caesar."  The  end  shop  alone  was  saved 
when  the  excavations  were  recently  made, 
and  on  its  site  the  butcher  sold  his  meat 
and  kept  his  cleavers. 

Tradition  says,  by-the-way,  but  only  tra- 
dition and  no  one  else,  that  Virginia  was 
buried  on  Mons  Sacer,  a  couple  of  miles  be- 
yond the  Porta  Pia;  and  there  still  exists 
there  a  tomb  which  is  said  to  be  hers.  Ma- 
caulay,  in  verse,  has  told  the  stor>'  of  her  fu- 
neral, and  Dionysius  gave  a  long  account  of 
its  magnificence  and  pomp,  and  of  the  crowds 
of  citizens  who  attended  it  ;  but  it  is  not 
positively  known  now  where — 

"  They  brought  a  bier,  and   hung  it  with   many  a 
cypress  crown ; 
And  gently  they  uplifted  her,  and  gently  laid  her 
down." 

Speaking  of  Macaulay,  it  m.ay  not  be  amiss 


30 

to  say  that  the  Bridge  which  Horatius  kept 
so  well  in  the  brave  days  of  old  was  the  Sub- 
lician  Bridge,  a  little  below  the  spot  where 
the  Ponte  Rotto  now  spans  the  Tiber.  It  is 
no  longer  standing,  although  certain  of  its 
wooden  piers  can  be  distinguished  when  the 
tide  of  the  Tiber  is  unusually  low. 

'*  I  then  went  down  the  river,"  wrote  Ma- 
caulay  himself,  in  his  Journal,  i6th  Novem- 
ber, 1838,  "to  the  spot  where  the  old  Pons 
Sublicius  stood,  and  looked  about  to  see 
how  my  *  Horatius '  agreed  with  the  topog- 
raphy. Pretty  well :  but  his  house  must 
be  on  Mount  Palatine,  for  he  would  never 
see  Mount  Coelius  from  the  spot  where  he 
fought."  Macaulay  does  not  say  where  was 
his  own  house  while  he  stayed  in  Rome. 

Corinne  was,  unquestionably,  the  result  of 
Madame  de  Stael's  visit  to  Italy  in  1804,  and 
the  chapters  of  it  which  are  descriptive  of 
Rome,  as  she  saw  it,  should  not  be  overlooked 
by  those  who  want  to  see  Rome  through  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  eyes. 

Rogers  wrote,  in  18 14:  "We  dwell  among 
the  clouds  and  look  down  on  the  Seven  Hills 


of  Rome.  We  are  in  the  Rondinini  Palace, 
distinguished  for  the  possession  of  the  cele- 
brated mask  of  the  Medusa,  and  from  its 
windows  we  command  a  little  world."  The 
Rondinini  Palace  is  now  numbered  518  Via 
del  Corso,  and  is  nearly  opposite  the  one- 
time lodging- place  of  Goethe;  but  the 
''Rondinini  Medusa"  has  been  removed  to 
Munich. 

Rogers  records  some  of  his  social  experi- 
ences during  his  first  visit  here ;  he  attended 
concerts  at  Lucian  Bonaparte's  palace,  dined 
at  Lord  Holland's,  visited  Canova  and  Thor- 
waldsen,  and  had  an  audience  with  the  Pope. 
He  lived  for  a  time  in  the  Via  Vittoria,  close 
to  the  Via  S.  Maria  de'  Fiori ;  but  in  the 
later  years  of  his  life  he  occupied  while  in 
Rome  a  house  in  the  Via  Magenta,  near  the 
Piazza  dell'  Indipendenza. 

Byron  seems  to  have  spent  but  little  more 
than  a  fortnight  in  Rome,  in  May,  1817. 
"  Of  Rome,"  he  wrote  to  Moore,  "  I  say 
nothing.  It  is  quite  indescribable.  ...  I 
have  been  on  horseback  most  of  the  day  all 
days  since  my  arrival.  ...  I  have  seen  the 


32 


Pope  alive,  and  a  cardinal  dead  —  both  of 
whom  looked  very  well  indeed."  And  that 
is  all.  He  was  too  eager  to  return  to  the 
Venice  of  his  affections  and  evil  doings  to 
remain  longer  here.  Byron  lodged  in  the 
three-story  double  house,  now  numbered  84 
and  85  Piazza  di  Spagna,  on  the  corner  of 
the  Via  Carrozza.  His  rooms  were  on  an 
upper  floor,  and  his  windows  looked  out  upon 
the  Piazza  towards  the  houses  of  Keats  and 
Shelley,  almost  directly  opposite.  His  last 
night  in  Rome  was  spent,  it  is  said,  in  the 
Villa  Mills,  on  the  Palatine,  now  a  convent 
of  French  nuns. 

It  is  almost  as  difficult  to-day,  even  at  this 
comparatively  short  period  of  intervening 
time,  to  discover  the  Roman  habitations  of 
the  Literary  Men  and  Women  of  the  present 
century  as  it  is  to  identify  the  homes  and 
the  haunts  of  the  men  of  the  past.  The 
memorial  tablets,  compared  with  those  of 
Florence,  are  very  few ;  and  in  biographies 
and  autobiographies,  in  published  Letters 
and  Journals,  very  rarely  are  definite  ad- 
dresses given.     Even  the  older  residents  of 


33 

Rome  who  remember  Rogers  and  Haw- 
thorne, Longfellow  and  Thackeray,  here,  do 
not  remember  where  they  lived.  Miss  Harriet 
Hosmer,  most  cheerful  and  entertaining  of 
companions,  most  faithful  of  friends,  forgets 
nothing,  however;  and  to  her  kindly  interest 
in  my  work,  and  to  her  affectionate  regard 
for  many  of  the  men  to  whom  it  relates,  I 
owe  much  of  the  valuable  information  I  am 
able  to  present. 

At  No.  26  Piazza  di  Spagna,  on  the  south- 
ern side  of  the  famous  steps  leading  up  to  the 
terrace  of  the  Church  of  S.  Trinita  de'  Monti, 
stands  one  of  the  most  familiar  of  the  Liter- 
ary Landmarks  of  Rome.  Immediately  over 
the  steps  is  a  tablet  stating,  in  Italian  and 
in  English,  that  in  this  house,  on  the  24th 
February,  1821,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
six,  died  the  young  British  poet  John  Keats. 
His  rooms  were  directly  below  the  tablet, 
and  the  modest  building  is  situated  in  the 
very  centre  of  what  is  called  "  The  Strangers' 
Quarter"  of  Rome.  The  famous  Piazza  is 
near  all  the  banks  and  the  circulating  libra- 
ries, it  contains  many  of  the  popular  hotels, 
3 


34 

and  it  is  a  scene  of  unending  life,  bustle,  and 
activity.  The  army  of  Italy,  blowing  its 
own  trumpet,  passes  and  repasses  almost 
every  hour  of  the  day  ;  and  at  one  end  of  the 
square  rises  the  tall  column  erected  in  honor 
of  the  Establishment  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception  of  the  Virgin,  with  its  colossal 
statue  of  the  Holy  Mother  looking  benignly 
down  upon  it  all.  Here  one  sees,  among 
the  people,  a  very  curious  commingling  of 
past  and  of  present,  of  the  wildly  picturesque 
and  of  the  ugly  commonplace;  venders  of 
brilliant  flowers  ;  priests  and  beggars  ;  tweed- 
suited  tourists ;  sheepskin-coated  peasants  ; 
professional  models,  waiting  to  be  hired,  and 
arrayed  in  those  fantastic  colors  which  the 
painters  of  Rome  represent  so  often  ;  and  pro- 
fessional cab-drivers  and  map-sellers  dressed 
in  garments  which  no  artist  would  ever  care 
to  paint.  Everything  is  delightfully  strange 
and  curiously  familiar ;  and  one  instinctively 
feels,  as  Dickens  felt,  when  he  first  arrived 
in  Rome,  that  the  models  are  all  personal 
acquaintances  whom  he  has  met  scores  of 
times  before,  until  he  realizes  that  he  has 


P[  LIES  0I€  WHOSE  NAME- 


KEATS  S    GRAVE 


35 

seen  their  lineaments  and  their  habiliments  in 
every  picture  of  Rome  that  was  ever  public- 
ly exhibited  in  England  or  America.  The 
models  are  as  much  a  part  of  Rome  as  is  St. 
Peter's  or  the  Colosseum,  and  they  are  pre- 
cisely what  one  expects  them  to  be.  The 
Pope's  Guards,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
are,  however,  a  bitter  disappointment  when 
seen  in  the  winter  months.  The  Papal  au- 
thorities have  covered  the  Fifteenth-Century 
Michael- Angelesque,  red-and-yellow  legs  of 
their  uniformed  defenders  with  long,  blue, 
modern  American  army  sack-overcoats  ;  and 
they  appear  now,  to  the  untrained  eye,  as 
absurd  as  would  seem  the  Jack  of  Clubs  in 
an  ulster ! 

The  sad  and  harrowing  story  of  Keats's 
last  hours  in  Rome  need  not  be  repeated 
here.  His  friend  Joseph  Severn  has  told  it 
all.  Early  in  the  month  of  October,  1820, 
Severn  and  Keats  arrived  together  in  Rome. 
Dr.  Clark,  afterwards  Sir  James  Clark,  found 
apartments  for  them  in  the  building  de- 
scribed above.  ''This,"  wrote  Severn,  "  had 
the  great  advantage  not  only  of  good  situa- 


36 

tion,  but  of  being  opposite  to  the  physician's 
own  house,  which,  indeed,  was  a  prearrange- 
ment,  so  that  Dr.  Clark  might  have  his 
patient  near  at  all  hours.  We  both  found 
accommodations  in  the  same  house,  and 
Keats's  bedroom  was  the  one  which  looked 
over  the  steps  on  the  side  of  the  house." 
On  the  14th  February,  1821,  Severn  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Brawne:  "Little  or  no  change  has 
taken  place  in  Keats  since  the  commence- 
ment of  this,  except  this  beautiful  one  that 
his  mind  is  growing  to  great  quietness  and 
peace; — I  find  this  change  has  its  rise  from 
the  increasing  weakness  of  his  body,  but  it 
seems  like  a  delightful  sleep  to  me.  .  .  . 
Among  the  many  things  that  he  has  re- 
quested of  me  to-night,  this  is  the  principal, 
that  on  his  grave  shall  be  this : 

'  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water.' " 

"  At  times  during  his  last  days,"  said 
Severn  elsewhere,  ''  he  made  me  go  to  see 
the  place  where  he  was  to  be  buried,  and  he 
expressed  pleasure  at  my  description  of  the 
locality  of   the   Pyramid  of  Caius   Cestius, 


37 

about  the  grass  and  the  many  flowers,  partic- 
ularly the  innumerable  violets ;    also  about 
the  flock  of  goats  and  sheep  and  a  young 
shepherd — all  these  intensely  interested  him. 
Violets   were   his   favorite   flowers,  and    he 
joyed    to    hear    how   they    overspread    the 
graves.     He   assured   me  that   *  he  had  al- 
ready seemed   to   feel  the  flowers  growing 
over  him.'"     "And  there  they  do  grow," 
added  Lord  Houghton  many  months  after- 
wards, "even  all   the  winter   long  —  violets 
and  daisies  mingling  with  the  fresh  herbage, 
and,  in  the  w^ords  of  Shelley,  '  making  one 
in  love  with  death  to  think  that  one  should 
be  buried  in  so  sweet  a  place.'  " 

Sixty-one  years  after  the  death  of  Keats, 
Severn  himself  was  laid  to  rest  by  the  side 
of  the  friend  he  had  loved  so  well  and  had 
never  forgotten. 

Keats  Hes  in  the  old  portion  of  the  Prot- 
estant Cemetery,  very  near  the  entrance. 
The  monument,  bearing  a  medallion  portrait 
of  him,  has  this  inscription:  "This  grave 
contains  all  that  was  mortal  of  a  young 
English  poet  who,  on  his  death-bed,  in  the 


38 

bitterness  of  his  heart  at  the  malicious  power 
of  his  enemies,  desired  these  words  to  be  en- 
graved upon  his  tombstone  : 

'  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water.'  " 

There  are  more  numbers  than  there  are 
houses  in  Rome,  and  almost  as  many  tablets. 
Many  houses  have  two  numbers,  some  houses 
have  three,  and  one  particular  house  in  the 
Via  del  Tritone  is  distinguished  by  no  less 
than  six;  tablets  being  set  up  in  some  in- 
stances to  mark  ownership  of  the  property, 
fire-insurance,  business  connections,  divine 
interposition,  and  heroic  occupancy,  all  over 
the  same  front  door.  This,  naturally,  is  con- 
fusing. Shelley's  house  in  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna  has  two  numbers — 25,  which  shows 
that  it  is  next  door  to  24,  and  366  in  small 
blue  figures;  the  reason  for,  or  the  meaning 
of,  the  latter  being  unknown  to  any  person 
in  the  neighborhood,  although  they  are  gen- 
erally supposed  to  have  something  to  do 
with  the  gas  or  the  water.  The  building 
has  three  tablets  showing  that  fire  poHcies 
are  placed  upon  it  in   as   many  companies, 


39 


and  innumerable  commercial  signs  ;  but  there 
is  nothing  to  explain  that  it  was  once  the 
house  of  Shelley,  as  Mr.  Forbes  declares  it 
to  have  been.  It  stands  north  of  the  house 
of  Keats,  with  which  it  is  almost  identical 
in  architecture,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the 
famous  steps. 

Shelley  wrote  portions  of  The  Cenci  and 
of  Prometheus  Unboimd  in  the  Palazzo  Ve- 
rospi,  Nos.  373.  374  Via  del  Corso.  It  is  a 
great  building  in  the  busiest  part  of  that 
thoroughfare  — one  of  the  Great  Streets  of 
the  World— and  a  tablet  recording  Shelley's 
association  with  it  was  placed  upon  its  front 
in  the  summer  of  1893. 

Shelley  obtained  these  lodgings  in  the  Pa- 
lazzo Verospi  in  February,  1819,  and  there, 
in  June,  William  Shelley,  his  son,  died.  The 
child  was  laid  in  the  Protestant  Cemetery, 
but  exactly  where  is  unknown.  The  tomb- 
stone erected  to  his  memory  was  placed,  in 
the  absence  of  his  parents,  over  the  wrong 

grave. 

Shelley's  body  was  burned  where   it  was 
found.     His   ashes  were  brought  to  Rome, 


40 

but  his  heart,  which  the  fire  did  not  con- 
sume, given  by  Edward  John  Trelawney  to 
Leigh  Hunt,  and  by  him  surrendered  to  Mrs. 
Shelley,  was  carried  with  her  to  England,  and 
is  said  to  be  still  preserved,  with  other  sa- 
cred relics  of  the  poet  and  his  wife,  in  Bos- 
combe  Manor,  Bournemouth. 

The  tomb  of  Shelley  is  in  the  Protestant 
Cemetery,  in  the  upper  or  eastern  part  of 
the  new  ground.  It  bears  the  name,  the 
date  of  his  birth  and  death,  and  the  inscrip- 
tion ''  Cor  Cordium,''  with  the  hues  from  The 
Tempest : 

"  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea  change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange." 

"A  spot  that  touched  me  deeply,"  wrote 
George  Eliot,  in  i860,  "was  Shelley's  grave. 
The  English  Cemetery  in  which  he  lies  is 
the  most  attractive  burial-place  I  have  ever 
seen.  It  lies  against  the  Old  City  walls  close 
to  the  Porta  S.  Paolo,  and  is  one  of  the  quiet- 
est spots  of  Old  Rome.  And  there,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  old  walls  on  one  side  and 


'       y  t  ■>■>■>   t 


i-i...  'y 


SHELLEY  S    GRAVE 


41 

cypresses  on  the  other,  lies  the  Cor  Cordium^ 
forever  at  rest  from  the  unloving  cavillers  of 
this  world,  whether  or  not  he  may  have  en- 
tered on  other  purifying  struggles  in  some 
world  unseen  by  us.  The  grave  of  Keats 
lies  far  off  from  Shelley's,  unshaded  by  wall 
or  tree.  It  is  painful  to  look  upon,  because 
of  the  inscription  on  the  stone,  which  makes 
him  still  seem  to  speak  in  bitterness  from 
his  tomb." 

Not  far  from  Shelley's  grave,  in  this  Prot- 
estant Cemetery,  is  that  of  Constance  Feni- 
more  Woolson,  who  died  in  Venice  in  Janu- 
ary, 1894,  and  was  buried  there  at  her  own 
request. 

She  was  preceded,  in  1893,  by  John  Ad- 
dington  Symonds,  whose  body  was  carried 
there  by  the  hands  of  loving  friends,  one 
warm  May  morning,  from  the  Hotel  Italia, 
where  he  had  passed  away  in  peace. 

And  she  was  followed,  in  the  early  autumn 
of  1895,  by  William  Wetmore  Story,  artist  in 
marble  as  well  as  in  words,  who  lies  with  his 
wife  by  the  side  of  the  ashes  of  Shelley  and 
of  Symonds.    He  lived  for  many  years  in  the 


42 

Barberlnl  Palace,  and  he  was  one  of  the  most 
important  and  familiar  figures  in  that  quar- 
ter of  the  world  of  art  and  letters  which  lies 
between  the  Tiber  and  the  Esquiline  Hill. 
His  monument  to  Mrs.  Story  was  the  sculp- 
tor's last  and  perhaps  his  greatest  work,  cer- 
tainly the  w^ork  in  which  was  put  the  most 
of  his  heart. 

Longfellow's  first  visit  to  Rome  was  in 
the  winter  of  1828.  In  1869,  almost  half  a 
century  later,  he  wrote :  "  Here  we  are  at  a 
new  hotel  built  in  the  gardens  of  Sallust's 
villa,  on  a  spur  of  the  Ouirinal,  back  of  the 
Barberini  Palace.  In  the  rear  the  windows 
look  across  the  Campagna  to  the  Alban  Hills. 
In  front  we  have  all  Rome,  unrolled  like  a 
panorama  and  crowned  by  St.  Peter's.  ...  I 
look  out  of  the  window  this  gray,  rainy  day 
[30th  January]  and  see  the  streets  all  mud, 
and  the  roofs  all  green  mould,  and  the  mist 
lying  like  a  pall  over  the  lower  town.  And 
Rome  seems  to  me  like  King  Lear,  stagger- 
ing in  the  storm  and  crowned  with  weeds. 
But  this  is  altogether  too  fine  wTiting !"  The 
house  which  he  thus  described  was  the  Ho- 


^y^^mm^ 


COxXSTANXE   FEMMORE    WOOLSON's    GRAVE 


43 

tel  Costanzo,  now  a  German  Jesuit  College, 
extending  from  No.  5  to  No.  10  Via  S.  Nicola 
da  Tolentino. 

"At  Rome,"  said  Sir  William  Gell,  ''Sir 
Walter  [Scott]  found  an  apartment  provided 
for  him  in  the  Casa  Bernini.  .  .  .  Soon  after 
his  arrival  I  took  him  to  St.  Peter's,  which 
he  had  resolved  to  visit  that  he  might  see 
the  tomb  of  the  last  of  the  Stuarts."  A  few 
days  later  Scott  went  to  the  Villa  Muti  at 
Frascati,  which  once  belonged  to  the  Cardi- 
nal of  York.  He  was  too  feeble  to  see  much 
or  to  do  much  in  Rome.  "  I  walk  with  pain," 
he  said,  "  and  what  we  see  whilst  suffering 
makes  little  impression  on  us."  In  \i\s  Jour- 
nal he  wrote,  on  the  i6th  April,  1832  :  *' We 
entered  Rome  by  a  gate  renovated  by  one 
of  the  old  Pontiffs,  but  which  I  forget,  and 
so  paraded  the  streets  by  moonlight  to  dis- 
cover, if  possible,  some  appearance  of  the 
learned  Sir  William  Gell  or  the  pretty  Mrs. 
Ashley.  At  length  we  found  our  old  servant, 
who  guided  us  to  the  lodging  taken  by  Sir 
William  Gell,  where  all  was  comfortable,  a 
good  fire   included,  which  our  fatigue  and 


44 

the  chilliness  of  the  night  required.  We 
dispersed  as  soon  as  we  had  taken  some 
food,  wine,  and  water. 

*'  We  slept  reasonably,  but  on  the  next 
morning — "  Here  the  Journal  stops  ab- 
ruptly, and  forever.  Lockhart  believed 
these  to  have  been  the  last  words  Scott 
ever  penned.  And  they  were  penned  in 
Rome ! 

A  tablet  marks  the  house  of  Scott,  which 
stands  in  the  narrow  little  Via  di  Mercede, 
not  far  from  the  General  Post-Ofi(ice. 

James  Fenimore  Cooper  first  entered 
Rome  *'  by  the  Gate  of  St.  John  "  in  the 
spring  of  1838.  His  earliest  stopping-place 
was  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris,  in  the  Via  S.  Ni- 
cola da  Tolentino,  but  in  a  short  time  he 
occupied  lodgings  in  the  Via  di  Ripetta. 
He  made  no  notes  of  Rome  which  are 
worthy  of  record.  He  saw  everything  that 
was  to  be  seen,  he  enjoyed  everything  he 
saw,  but  he  left  Rome  with  little  regret. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  made  repeated 
visits  to  Rome.  The  first  was  in  1833,  when 
he  saw  the  second  funeral  of  Raphael,  and 


45 

formed  an  acquaintance  with  Thorwaldsen. 
He  was  here  again  in  1841,  when  his  birthday- 
was  celebrated,  and  when  he  wrote,  in  The 
Story  of  My  Life :  "  Frau  von  Goethe,  who 
was  in  Rome,  and  who  chanced  to  be  living 
in  the  very  house  where  I  brought  my  '  Im- 
provisatore  '  into  the  world,  and  made  him 
spend  his  first  years  of  childhood,  sent  me 
from  thence  a  large,  true  Roman  bouquet,  a 
fragrant  mosaic."  In  The  hnprovisatore  he 
said :  *'  Whoever  has  been  in  Rome  is  well 
acquainted  with  the  Piazza  Barberini,  in  the 
great  square,  with  the  beautiful  fountain 
where  the  Tritons  empty  the  spouting  conch- 
shell,  from  which  the  water  springs  upwards 
many  feet.  Whoever  has  not  been  there 
knows  it,  at  all  events,  from  the  copper-plate 
engravings ;  only  it  is  a  pity  that  in  these 
the  house  at  the  corner  of  the  Via  Felice  is 
not  given — that  tall  corner  house,  where  the 
water  pours  through  three  pipes  out  of  the 
wall  into  the  stone  basin.  That  house  has 
a  peculiar  interest  for  me;  for  it  was  there 
that  I  ['  The  Improvisatore  ']  was  born." 
This  house,  Nos.  i  and  2  Piazza  Barberini, 


46 

on  the  northeastern  corner  of  the  square 
and  the  Via  Sistina  —  once  Via  Felice  —  is 
still  pointed  out  by  a  few  old  friends,  who 
remember  Andersen  as  living  in  it  himself. 
He  is  said  to  have  occupied  rooms  on  the 
second  story ;  and  his  windows,  on  the  floor 
above  the  little  balcony,  looked  out  upon  the 
Fountain  of  the  Triton  and  his  attending 
dolphins.  The  beautiful  old  fountain  on  the 
side  of  this  house  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past. 
From  its  three  pipes  flowed,  free  to  all,  in 
Andersen's  time,  and  long  before,  the  deli- 
cious Acqua  Felice. 

In  1861  Andersen  wrote:  "In  the  old 
Cafe  Grasce  I  got  apartments  for  myself  and 
my  young  travelling  companion,  and  now  we 
went  out  into  the  great  city,  so  familiar  and 
so  homelike."  The  Caffe  Greco  is  at  No. 
86  Via  Condotti. 

In  IV/iat  I  Remember,  Thomas*  Adolphus 
Trollope  wrote:  ''In  the  autumn  of  1847 
my  mother  and  I  went  to  pass  the  winter  in 
Rome.  Our  apartment  was  in  a  small  pa- 
lazzo  in  that  part  of  the  Via  Quattro  Fon- 
tane  which  is  now  situated  between  the  Via 


»      »   ^,    •     )    » 


THE    HOUSE    OF    ANDERSEN,   PIAZZA    BARBERINI 


47 

Nazionale  and  the  church  of  S.  Maria  Mag- 
giore,  to  the  left  of  one  going  towards  the 
latter.  ...  It  was  a  very  comfortable  apart- 
ment, roomy,  sunny,  and  quiet.  It  exists 
still  [1888],  though  somewhat  modernized 
in  outward  appearance,  and  is,  I  think,  the 
second  after  one,  going  towards  S.  Maria 
Maggiore,  has  crossed  the  new  Via  Na- 
zionale." 

TroUope  finally  settled  in  Rome  in  1873, 
and  remained  here  for  some  fourteen  years  ; 
living  first  in  the  Via  Rosella,  opposite  the 
Scotch  College;  then  at  No.  9  Via  Susanna; 
and  later  in  the  Via  Nazionale,  in  a  house 
originally  numbered  367,  and  afterwards  243. 
This  last  house  remains  unchanged. 

In  the  late  winter  of  1847  ^^^s.  Jameson 
lodged  at  No.  53  Piazza  di  Spagna.  Her 
niece,  and  companion,  wrote:  **  Our  rooms 
w^ere  over  Spithover's  shop,  with  little  bal- 
conied windows  looking  out  over  all  the 
amusing  scenes  in  the  Piazza,  the  sparkling 
of  the  great  fountain,  and  the  picturesque 
figures,  models,  and  contadini  that  group 
themselves  upon  the  Spanish  Steps.  .  .  .  Her 


48 

life  in  Rome  was  a  very  pleasant  one  while 
undisturbed  by  all  [domestic]  agitations.  As 
she  herself  wrote,  she  went  nowhere  uncon- 
nected with  her  present  labors  {The  Sacred 
and  Legendary  Art],  unless  it  were  occasion- 
ally for  a  long  drive,  after  the  day's  toil 
might  be  considered  as  over,  away  into  the 
Campagna."  In  March,  1847,  ^^^s.  Jameson 
said:  "I  have  very  pleasant  soirees  on  Sun- 
day evenings,  which  are  liked ;  but  my  room 
is  so  small  that  I  cannot  have  above  twenty 
people,  and  I  give  them  only  tea."  She 
left  Rome  after  Easter,  not  to  return  until 

1857- 
We  find  her  once  more  in  Rome  in  1859, 

when  she  lived  on  the  third  floor  of  an  an- 
cient four- storied  house.  No.  176  Via  di 
Ripetta,  "  close  by  the  Tiber  side  of  the 
Palazzo  Borghese."  Here  she  met  Gibson 
the  sculptor,  the  Storys,  Miss  Hosmer — who 
pointed  out  her  windows  to  the  present 
writer — and  the  Hawthornes.  She  went  to 
Florence  in  the  spring,  and  she  never  saw 
Rome  again.  Hawthorne  recorded,  in  his 
Italian  Note  Books,  that  "  Mrs.  Jameson  lived 


49 

on  the  first  piano  of  an  old  palazzo  on  the 
Via  di  Ripetta,  nearly  opposite  the  ferry-way 
across  the  Tiber,  and  affording  a  pleasant 
view  of  the  yellow  river  and  the  green  bank 
and  fields  on  the  other  side." 

Mr.  Norton  prints  none  of  the  letters  of 
Lowell  written  during  his  visit  to  Italy  in 
1852,  when  he  lost  a  little  son  in  Rome  ;  but 
in  1874  Lowell  spent  a  fortnight  Avith  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Story  in  the  Palazzo  Barberini ; 
and  in  1881  he  was  at  the  Hotel  Bristol. 
"My  windows,"  he  said,  ''look  out  on  one 
side  towards  the  Barberini,  and  on  the  other 
towards  the  old  Triton  ;  the  weather  is  fine 
as  fine  can  be,  and  I  do  nothing  with  com- 
mendable assiduity — thawing  myself  out  in 
the  sun  like  a  winter  fly.  ,  .  .  The  only  cos- 
tumes left  now  are  on  the  brazen-faced  mod- 
els, and  one  sees  below — what?  Those  hate- 
ful boots  with  high  heels  in  the  midst  of  the 
sole,  on  which  they  tottle  about  as  on  peg- 
tops.  When  I  was  first  here  every  peasant 
woman  wore  sandals.  I  always  hated  those 
eternal  representations  of  women  with  dirty 
towels  on  their  heads,  which  express  the 
4 


50 


highest  aspiration  and  conviction  of  modern 
art — but  this  is  like  the  cloven  hoof." 

In  January,  1854,  Mrs.  Browning  wrote 
from  "43  Via  di  Bocca  di  Leone,  3d  piano. 
We  have  pleasant  music  at  Mrs.  Sartoris's 
once  or  twice  a  week,  and  have  Fanny 
Kemble  come  in  to  talk  to  us,  with  the  doors 
shut,  we  three  together.  This  is  pleasant. 
If  anybody  wants  small-talk  by  handfuls,  of 
glittering  dust  swept  out  of  salons,  here's 
Mr.  Thackeray  besides  !"  Later  she  wrote  : 
*'We  have  met  Lockhart,  and  my  husband 
sees  a  good  deal  of  him.  Robert  went  down 
to  the  sea-side,  on  a  day's  excursion  with 
him  and  the  Sartorises — and,  I  hear,  found 
favor  in  his  sight.  Said  the  critic,  '  I  like 
Browning — he  isn't  at  all  like  a  damned  liter- 
ary man  !'    That's  a  compliment,  I  believe  !" 

Mrs.  Ritchie  possesses  a  letter  written  by 
Mrs.  Browning  to  Thackeray  dated  ''  28  Via 
del  Tritone,  Rome,  13th  April,"  but  unfort- 
unately without  the  year.  In  her  Records 
of  Browning  she  writes :  *'  In  the  winter  of 
1853-54  we  [the  Thackerays]  lived  in  Rome, 
in    the  Via  del    Croce,  and   the   Brownings 


51 

lived  in  the  Bocca  di  Leone,  hard  by.  The 
evenings  our  father  dined  away  from  home 
our  old  donna  would  conduct  us  to  our  tran- 
quil dissipations,  through  the  dark  streets, 
past  the  swinging  lamps,  up  and  down  the 
black  stone  staircases ;  and  very  often  we 
spent  an  evening  with  Mrs.  Browning  in  her 
quiet  room,  while  Mr.  Browning  was  out 
visiting  some  of  the  many  friends  who  were 
assembled  in  Rome  that  year." 

The  Via  di  Bocca  di  Leone  is  a  narrow 
street,  and  the  rooms  of  the  Brownings, 
pointed  out  by  Miss  Hosmer,  who  knew 
them  there,  had  but  little  sun  in  the  front, 
although,  no  doubt,  the  rear  was  warmer 
and  more  cheerful.  Later  they  were  at  No. 
113 — now  No.  37 — Via  del  Tritone,  as  Miss 
Hosmer  remembers,  in  a  house  very  much 
changed  since  their  occupancy  of  it.  The 
street  has  been  re-numbered  in  a  most  con- 
fusing way ;  and  both  the  old  and  the  new 
numbers  are  still  to  be  seen ;  the  old  are  in 
red  figures ;  the  new  are  in  figures  cut  into 
the  houses  themselves. 

A  favorite   stopping -place  of  Thackeray 


was  the  Hotel  Inghilterra,  a  hostelry  still 
standing,  and  unchanged,  in  the  Via  di  Bocca 
di  Leone,  And  here  he  is  said  to  have 
written  The  Rose  and  the  Ring,  for  Mr. 
Story's  little  daughter,  reading  it  to  her, 
chapter  by  chapter,  as  it  was  composed. 

"  At  seven  o'clock,"  said  Hawthorne,  22d 
May,  1858,  "  we  went  by  invitation  to  take 
tea  with  Miss  Bremer.  After  much  search, 
and  lumbering  up  two  or  three  staircases  in 
vain,  and  at  last  going  about  in  a  strange 
circuity,  we  found  her  in  a  small  chamber  of 
a  large  old  building  situated  a  little  way 
from  the  brow  of  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  It 
was  the  tiniest  and  humblest  domicile  that 
I  have  seen  in  Rome,  just  large  enough  to 
hold  her  narrow  bed,  her  tea-table,  and  a 
table  covered  with  books — photographs  of 
Roman  ruins — and  some  pages  written  by 
herself.  I  wonder  whether  she  is  poor. 
Probably  so ;  for  she  told  us  that  her  ex- 
pense of  living  here  is  only  five  pauls  a 
day.  .  .  .  Meanwhile  as  the  day  declined 
there  had  been  the  most  beautiful  view  over 
the  Campagna  from  one  of   her  windows; 


53 

and  from  the  other,  looking  towards  St. 
Peter's,  the  broad  gleam  of  a  mildly  glorious 
sunset.  ...  In  the  garden  beneath  her 
window,  verging  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock, 
there  was  shrubbery  and  one  large  tree, 
softening  the  brow  of  the  famous  precipice 
down  which  the  Old  Romans  used  to  fling 
their  traitors,  or  sometimes  indeed  their  pa- 
triots." 

When  Motley  first  came  to  Rome  he 
lived  in  the  Palazzo  Bernini,  No.  151  Via  del 
Corso.  Later  and  longer  he  lived  on  the 
second  floor  of  the  Palazzo  Zuccari,  No.  64 
Via  Sistina.  In  1858  he  wrote  to  his  mother: 
**  We  are  now  in  very  comfortable  lodgings 
on  the  Corso,  about  opposite  the  Church  of 
S.  Carlo,  if  you  happen  to  remember  it.  We 
are  on  the  third  floor.  ...  I  have  a  good 
room  for  my  study,  and  I  am  hard  at  work. 
I  began  my  first  volume  about  a  fortnight 
ago,  and  hope  to  have  it  done  by  April.  .  .  . 
I  have  to  spread  myself  over  a  wide  surface, 
for  after  the  death  of  William  the  Silent  the 
history  of  the  province  becomes,  for  a  time, 
swallowed  up  in  the  general  current  of  Eu- 


54 

ropean  history.  I  do  not  mean  by  that  that 
it  loses  its  importance.  On  the  contrary, 
the  Netherlands  question  becomes  the  great 
question  of  history." 

George  Eliot  and  Lewes  first  saw  Rome  in 
the  spring  of  i860.  According  to  her  own 
statement  she  lived  at  **  the  Hotel  Inghil- 
terra  in  the  Strada  Babuino,"  which  leads 
directly  from  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  to  the 
Piazza  di  Spagna ;  but  as  the  Hotel  d'Ame- 
rique  was  in  this  street,  and  the  Hotel  In- 
ghilterra  in  another  part  of  the  town,  she 
must  have  confused  the  names.  The  Ame- 
rique  was  the  building  now  numbered  yS 
and  79  Via  del  Babuino,  and  it  is  no  longer  a 
hotel.  Old  friends  of  hers  still  remember 
her  at  this  house. 

'*  Discontented  with  our  little  room  at  an 
extravagant  height  of  stairs  and  price,"  she 
wrote,  *'  we  found,  and  took,  lodgings  the 
next  day  in  the  Corso,  opposite  S.  Carlo, 
with  a  well-mannered  Frenchman  and  his 
little  dark  Italian  wife — and  so  felt  ourselves 
settled  for  a  month."  ^'  Yesterday "  (3d 
April),  she  wrote   to    Mrs.  Congreve,  "  was 


55 

taken  up  with  seeing  ceremonies,  or  rather 
waiting  for  them.  I  knelt  down  to  receive 
the  Pope's  blessing,  remembering  what  Pius 
VII.  said  to  the  soldier  —  that  one  would 
never  be  the  worse  for  the  blessing  of  an  old 
man." 

Mr.  J.  W.  Cross  recorded  in  his  Life  of 
George  Eliot  that  he  first  met  that  lady  in 
May,  1869,  at  the  Hotel  Minerva  here,  where 
Lewes  had  taken  rooms.  And  he  spoke  of 
''  the  low,  deep,  earnest  musical  tones  of  her 
voice,  of  the  fine  brows  with  the  abundant 
auburn-brown  hair  framing  them,  of  the  long 
head  broadening  at  the  back,  of  the  gray- 
blue  eyes,  constantly  changing  in  expression, 
but  always  with  a  very  loving,  almost  depre- 
cating look  at  the  lady  with  whomi  she  was 
speaking,  of  the  finely  formed,  thin,  transpar- 
ent hands,  and  a  whole  Wesen  that  seemed 
in  complete  harmony  with  everything  one 
expected  to  find  in  the  author  of  Romola^ 

The  Hotel  Minerva  is  No.  69  Piazza  della 
Minerva. 

"•  We  spent  three  delightful  winters  in 
Rome,"  said  Locker-Lampson,  "arriving  at 


56 

the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  No.  31,  on  the  29th 
December,  1861;  at  No.  103  Via  de'  Due 
MacelH  on  the  17th  December,  1862;  and 
lastly,  at  No.  43  Via  di  Bocca  di  Leone  2° 
p°  (I  specify  it  all  with  amorous  precision) 
on  the  17th  November,  1866."  But  he  spe- 
cified nothing  of  the  life  he  lived  here,  ex- 
cept a  list  of  the  persons  he  n.et,  and  the 
fact  that  for  a  portion  of  the  time  he  "  filled 
the  high  office  of  warden  to  the  Episcopal 
Church  immediately  outside  the  Porta  del 
Popolo." 

Lord  Houghton  lived  at  No.  8  Via  S.  Ba- 
silio,  in  a  house  later  the  residence  of  George 
P.  Marsh.  Afterwards  he  was  a  guest  at 
the  Hotel  de  Londres,  in  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna. 

George  P.  Marsh  dwelt  at  No.  8  Via  S. 
Basilio,  on  the  floor  above  the  ground-floor. 
Later  he  lived  in  the  Piazza  dell'  Esquilino, 
in  the  house  where  are  now  displayed  the 
arms  of  the  Argentine  Republic;  and  during 
the  last  few  years  of  his  residence  in  Rome 
he  had  an  apartment  in  the  Palazzo  Rospi- 
gliosi,  on  the  Quirinal  Hill,  near  the  Via  Na- 


57 

zionale.     He  was  buried  in  the  Protestant 
Cemetery  in  1882. 

The  only  picture  Dean  Stanley  gave  of 
his  personal  experiences  in  Rome  is  in  a  let- 
ter written  in  October,  1866,  from  51  Piazza 
di  Spagna.  "  We  have  moved  here,"  he 
wrote,  ''  from  our  hotel.  The  Gladstones 
were  so  kindly  urgent  about  it,  and  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  situation  so  great,  that  we 
determined  to  try  the  experiment,  and  it 
completely  answers.  They  are  on  the  sec- 
ond, we  on  the  third  floor.  The  dining- 
room  is  on  the  third  floor,  and  we  have  hith- 
erto always  dined  together.  This  is  the 
only  time  when  we  necessarily  meet ;  but 
very  pleasant  it  is.  He  [Gladstone]  is  so 
extremely  enjoying  his  liberty."  That  the 
gentle  dean  enjoyed  his  own  liberty  ex- 
tremely during  his  stay  in  Rome  is  evident 
in  everything  he  wrote  about  it  to  his  friends 
at  home. 

Mrs.  Helen  Hunt  rested  in  the  winter 
of  1868-69,  between  her  Bits  of  Travel^  at 
No.  155  Via  Quattro  Fontane  —  "just  op- 
opsite   the    Barberini,  on   the   corner  oppo- 


site  Miss  Hosmer's  house.  Think  of  that! 
Aren't  we  in  luck?"  She  wrote  to  her 
"  Dear  Souls  "  at  home  :  "  The  rooms  are 
charming  —  a  parlor  on  the  southeast  cor- 
ner, two  windows ;  a  dining-room,  two  bed- 
rooms, and  such  a  kitchen,  resplendent  with 
copper." 

Louisa  Alcott  occupied,  in  the  winter  of 
1870-71,  an  apartment  on  the  northeastern 
corner  of  the  Via  S.  Nicola  da  Tolentino  and 
the  Piazza  Barberini;  and  it  must  have  been 
an  awkward  address  to  put  on  the  visiting- 
cards  she  had  to  leave,  no  doubt,  as  is  the 
Roman  way,  upon  every  person  she  wished 
to  have  call  upon  her.  It  takes  a  month 
or  two  in  Rome  to  master  the  etiquette  of 
calls  and  of  cards,  and  even  then  the  stranger 
is  apt  to  leave  the  wrong  card  and  to  make 
the  wrong  call.  But  this  has  nothing  to  do 
with  Miss  Alcott.  Her  house,  an  old,  tum- 
ble-down, two-and-a-half-storied  edifice,  was 
taken  to  pieces,  in  self-defence,  a  few  years 
ago;  and  a  fine,  square,  many -windowed, 
modern  building  now  occupies  its  site.  In 
November,  1870,  she  wrote  in  her  /otirnal: 


59 

"  In  Rome ;  and  felt  as  if  I  had  been  there 
before,  and  knew  all  about  it.  Always  de- 
pressed with  a  sense  of  sin,  dirt,  and  general 
decay  of  all  things.  Not  well ;  so  saw  things 
through  blue  glasses.  .  .  .  Our  apartment  in 
the  Piazza  Barberini  was  warm  and  cozy ; 
and  I  thanked  Heaven  for  it,  as  it  rained  for 
two  months,  and  my  first  view  most  of  the 
time  was  the  poor  Triton  with  an  icicle  on 
his  nose."  The  next  year,  still  in  Rome, 
she  wrote :  ''  Began  to  write  a  new  book, 
Little  Men^  that  John's  death  may  not  leave 
A and  the  dear  little  boys  in  want." 

Miss  Amelia  B.  Edwards  once  had  rooms 
in  the  house  where  lodged  Miss  Alcott. 

On  the  22d  November,  1870,  Mary  How- 
itt  wrote  to  her  daughter:  "We  are  located 
on  the  summit  of  one  of  the  Seven  Hills,  at 
a  corner  of  four  converging  streets,  each  vis- 
ibly terminating  by  an  historic  monument." 
Later  she  wrote  :  '*  We  are  located  in  charm- 
ing new  quarters — in  the  Via  di  Porta  Pin- 
ciani."  In  1871  they  were  in  the  Via  Sisti- 
na,  No.  55.  "Looking  up  the  street,"  she 
said,  "  the  Piazza  of  the  Trinita  de'  Monti 


6o 

immediately  opens  before  us,  with  the  dis- 
tant heights  of  Monte  Mario,  where  the  sun 
now  sets  and  the  evening  skies  are  beautiful. 
Just  opposite  to  us  is  the  old  palace  of  some 
Queen  of  Poland,  a  rather  dingy -looking 
place,  with  traces  of  grandeur  about  it.  It 
forms  a  division  between  the  Via  Sistina 
and  the  Via  Gregoriana,  which  unite  in  the 
Piazza."  Here  William  Howitt  died  in 
1879. 

In  May  of  the  same  year  Mrs.  Howitt 
moved  for  a  few  weeks  into  apartments  at 
No.  86  Via  Sistina.  In  1887  she  wrote  from 
No.  38  Via  Gregoriana:  "  We  are  in  what  was 
Miss  Charlotte  Cushman's  Roman  home." 
And  here  she  died  in  January  of  the  next 
year.  She  was  buried  in  the  Protestant 
Cemetery  by  her  husband's  side. 

Hawthorne  has  told  the  story  of  his  life  in 
Rome  very  thoroughly  in  his  Italian  Note 
Books,  which,  if  they  were  properly  in- 
dexed, would  be  the  best  guides  to  Rome 
ever  published.  They  should  be  read  before 
one  goes  to  Rome,  while  one  is  in  Rome, 
and  after  one  has  left  Rome ;  and  then  they 


6i 

should  be  read  again  and  again.  And  The 
Marble  Faun  should  receive  the  same  close 
and  studious  attention. 

Two  of  Hawthorne's  dwelling-places  in 
Rome  are  still  remembered  by  some  of  his 
old  friends  here  ;  and  there  is  a  pleasant  tra- 
dition— unverified,  however,  by  anything  re- 
corded in  his  Journals  or  his  Letters — that 
he  at  one  time  occupied  the  rooms  with  the 
balcony,  on  the  northeastern  corner  of  the 
Via  Sistina  and  the  Piazza  Barberini,  directly 
beneath  what  was  once  the  home  of  Hans 
Christian  Andersen. 

From  "  No.  37  Palazzo  Larazani,  Via  di 
Porta  Pinciana,  24th  January,  1858,"  he 
wrote :  "  After  a  day  or  two  we  settled  our- 
selves in  a  suite  of  ten  rooms,  comprehend- 
ing one  flat,  on  what  is  called  the  second 
piano  of  this  house.  The  rooms  thus  far 
have  been  very  uncomfortable,  it  being  im- 
possible to  warm  them  by  means  of  the 
deep,  old-fashioned,  artificial  fireplaces  un- 
less we  had  the  great  logs  of  a  New  England 
forest  to  burn  in  them,  so  I  have  sat  in  my 
corner  by  the  fireside  with  more  clothes  on 


62 

than  I  ever  wore  before,  and  my  thickest 
great-coat  over  all." 

The  Hawthornes,  having  spent  some  time 
in  Florence,  came  back  to  Rome  in  October, 
1858,  and  they  lived,  until  they  left  Italy  in 
the  month  of  May,  1859,  ^t  No.  68  Piazza 
Poli.  *'  We  have  the  snuggest  little  suite  of 
apartments  in  Rome.  Seven  rooms,  includ- 
ing an  antechamber ;  and  though  the  stairs 
are  exceedingly  narrow,  there  is  really  a 
carpet  on  them — a  civilized  comfort  of  which 
the  proudest  palaces  in  the  Eternal  City  can- 
not boast.  The  stairs  are  very  steep,  how- 
ever, and  I  should  not  wonder  if  some  of  us 
broke  our  noses  on  them.  .  .  .  Our  windows 
here  look  out  on  a  small  and  rather  quiet 
piazza,  with  an  immense  palace  on  the  left 
hand,  and  a  smaller  yet  statelier  one  on  the 
right ;  and  just  round  the  corner  of  the 
street  leading  out  of  our  piazza  is  the  Foun- 
tain of  Trevi,  of  which  I  can  hear  the  plash 
in  the  evening,  when  other  sounds  are 
hushed." 

The  Piazza  Poli  house  is  no  longer  stand- 
ing.   Its  site  is  now  occupied  by  what  seems 


63 

to  be  the  Sunday-school  room,  or  office,  of 
the  Methodist  Church,  Nos.  2  and  3  Via 
Poli.  The  entire  appearance  of  that  par- 
ticular quarter  of  the  town  has  been 
changed. 

Here  it  was  that  The  Marble  Faun,  that 
famous  romance  which  the  English  for  some 
unknown  reason  call  Transformation,  was 
conceived;  and  Hawthorne's  own  identifica- 
tion of  the  Marble  Faun  itself  will  interest 
many  of  its  admirers. 

In  i860  he  wrote  to  Henry  Bright :  "  You 
will  not  find  any  photograph  or  (so  far  as  I 
am  aware)  any  engraving  of  the  Faun  of 
Praxiteles.  There  are  photographs,  stereo- 
scopic and  otherwise,  of  another  Faun  which 
is  almost  identical  with  the  hero  of  my  ro- 
mance, although  only  an  inferior  repetition 
of  it.  My  Faun  is  in  the  Capitol ;  the  other 
in  the  Vatican.  The  genuine  statue  has 
never  been  photographed,  on  account,  I  sup- 
pose, of  its  standing  in  a  bad  light.  The 
photographs  of  the  Vatican  Faun  supply  its 
place  very  well,  except  as  to  the  face,  which 
is  very  inferior." 


64 

Hawthorne,  in  his  own  inimitable  way, 
painted  the  picture  of  Hilda's  Tower,  in  the 
sixth  chapter  of  the  romance.  ''  Connected 
with  this  old  tower,"  he  said,  "is  a  legend 
which  we  cannot  pause  here  to  tell ;  but  for 
centuries  a  lamp  has  been  burning  before  the 
Virgin's  image,  at  noon,  at  midnight,  and  at 
all  hours  of  the  twenty-four ;  and  must  be 
kept  burning  forever,  as  long  as  the  tower 
shall  stand ;  or  else  the  tower  itself,  the 
palace,  and  whatever  estate  belongs  to  it 
shall  pass  from  its  hereditary  possessor,  in 
accordance  with  an  ancient  vow,  and  become 
the  property  of  the  Church." 

The  Church  is  not  so  powerful  in  Rome 
as  it  was  in  1859,  when  Hawthorne  wrote, 
but  the  lamp  still  burns,  and  the  legend 
which  he  could  not  pause  to  tell  in  The 
Marble  Faun  he  has  told  in  his  Note  Books ^ 
and  it  is  well  worth  repeating  here  in  full : 
"  Mr.  [Cephas  G.]  Thompson  took  me  into 
the  Via  Portoghesi,  and  showed  me  an  old 
palace,  about  which  rose  —  not  a  very  cus- 
tomary feature  of  the  architecture  of  Rome 
— a  tall,  battlemented  tower.     At  one  angle 


If?      \ 


\% 


HILDA  S   TOWER 


65 

of  the  tower  we  saw  a  shrine  of  the  Virgin, 
with  a  lamp  and  all  the  appendages  of  those 
numerous  shrines  which  we  see  at  the  street 
corners  and  in  hundreds  of  places  about  the 
city.  Three  or  four  centuries  ago  this  palace 
was  inhabited  by  a  nobleman  who  had  an 
only  son  and  a  large  pet  monkey,  and  one 
day  the  monkey  caught  the  infant  up,  and 
clambered  to  this  lofty  turret,  and  sat  there, 
with  him  in  his  arms,  grinning  and  chatter- 
ing like  the  devil  himself.  The  father  was 
in  despair,  but  was  afraid  to  pursue  the 
monkey  lest  he  should  fling  down  the  child 
from  the  height  of  the  tower  and  make  his 
escape.  At  last  he  vowed  that  if  the  boy 
were  safely  restored  to  him  he  would  build  a 
shrine  at  the  summit  of  the  tower,  and  cause 
it  to  be  kept  as  a  sacred  place  forever.  By- 
and-by  the  monkey  came  down,  and  deposited 
the  child  on  the  ground  ;  the  father  fulfilled 
his  vow,  built  the  shrine,  and  made  it  obli- 
gatory on  all  future  possessors  of  the  place 
to  keep  the  lamp  burning  before  it." 

Hilda's   Tower  is   beautiful  in  itself,  and 
well    worth    a    visit    for    its    own    sake.     It 

5 


66 


stands,  in    its  square   and   rugged    solidity, 
two  stories  above  the  large  house  of  which  it 
torms  a  corner.     A  fine  old  projecting  gate- 
way leads  into  a  small  court -yard,  which, 
when  the  present   pilgrim  last  saw  it,  one 
Christmas  Eve,  had  never  a  dove,  but  was 
occupied    by   dismal    chickens    and    dismal 
children,  and    ragged   clothes   hung  out   to 
dry.     It  can  be  found  in  an  out-of-the-way 
corner  of  the  Rome  of  to-day,  in  the  short 
little   Via  Portoghesi,  west   of    the  Corso ; 
and  one  wonders,  as  one  goes  towards  it  by 
a  most  winding  route  from  "  The  Strangers' 
Quarter,"  or   from    the    Quirinal    Hill,  how 
Hilda  or  Hawthorne   came  upon  it  at  all. 
The  little  shrine  to  the  Virgin  and  the  lamp 
which  illumines  it  so   faintly  at   night  can 
easily  be  seen  from  the  street.     The  people 
of  its  neighborhood  who  gaze  upon  it  know, 
and   care,  more    about    the   legend    of   the 
baby  and  the  monkey  than  they  do  about 
the  story  which   Hawthorne   so  touchingly 
told ;  but  it  is  one  of  the  most  precious  of 
the  Literary  Landmarks  of  Rome ;  and  it 
seems  particularly  fitting  that  American  and 


67 

English  readers  should  say,  in  these  pages, 
'*  good-night "  to  Rome,  by  the  light  of  the 
lantern  dimly  burning  on  the  summit  of 
Hilda's  Tower. 


INDEX  OF  PERSONS 


Alcott,  Louisa,  58-59. 
Andersen,    Hans    Chris- 
tian, 44-46,  61. 

Bremer,   Frederika, 

52-53. 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Bar- 
rett, 50-51. 

Browning,  Robert,  50-51. 

Byron,  Lord,  31-32. 

Byron,  Lord,  quoted,  8. 

C^SAR,  Julius,  4,  5-1 1. 
Chateaubriand,  27-28. 
Cherbury,  Lord  Herbert 

of,  18. 
Cicero,  4-5. 
Cooper,  James  Fenimore, 

44. 
Cross,  J.  W.,  quoted,  55. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  60. 

Dante,  18. 

Dickens,   Charles,  quot- 
ed, 34-35. 
Dionysius,  quoted,  29. 

Edwards,Amelia  B.,  59. 
"Eliot,  George,"  54-55- 
•*  Eliot,  George,"  quoted, 
40-41. 


Evans,  Mary  Anne,  54-55. 
Evans,  Mary  Anne,  quot- 
ed, 40-41. 
Evelyn,  John,  24-25. 

Forbes,  S.  Russell, 
quoted,  4, 6, 7, 1 3, 29,  39. 

Galileo,  21-22. 
"George  Eliot,"  54-55- 
"  George  Eliot,"  quoted, 

40-41. 
Gladstone,  William   Ew- 

art,  57. 
Goethe,  26-27,  31. 
Gray,  Thomas,  25. 

Hare,  Augustus  J.  C, 

quoted,  4,  8,  16. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel, 

48,  60-67. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel, 

quoted,  9-10,  23,  48- 

49.  52-53- 

Herbert,  Lord  (of  Cher- 
bury),  18. 

Hiilard,  George  S.,  quot- 
ed, 22-23,  27-28. 

Horace,  12-13. 

Hosmer,  Harriet,  33,  48, 
51,  58. 


Houghton,  Lord,  56. 
Houghton,  Lord,  quoted, 

37. 
Hovvitt,  Mary,  59-60. 
Hovvitt,  William,  59-60. 
Hunt,  Helen,  57-58. 

Jameson,  Anna,  47-49. 

Keats,  John,  32,  33-38, 

39.41. 

Kemble,  Fanny,  50. 

Knowles,  James  Sheri- 
dan, quoted,  28. 

Lanciani,     Rodolfo, 

quoted,  4,  10,  13. 
Lewes,    George    Henry, 

54-55. 

Locker- Lampson,  Fred- 
erick, 55-56. 

Lockhart,  John    Gibson, 

44.  50. 

Lockhart,  John  Gibson, 
quoted,  44. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wads- 
worth,  42-43. 

Lowell,  James  Russell, 
49-50. 

Lucullus,  5. 

Luther,  Martin,  15-17. 

Macaulay,  Lord,  29-30. 
Maecenas,  12,  13. 
Marsh,  George  P.,  56-57. 
Middleton,      J.      Henry, 

quoted,  4,  12. 
Milton,  John,  22-24, 
Montaigne,  18-20. 
Motley,    John    Lothrop, 

53-54. 


Pedo  Albinovanus,  13. 
Petrarch,  13-14. 
Pliny,  13. 

Ritchie,  Anne  Thack- 
eray, quoted,  50-51. 
Rogers,  Samuel,  30-31. 

Sallust,  11-12. 
Scott,  Walter,  43-44. 
Severn,  Joseph,  32,  37. 
Severn,  Joseph,   quoted, 

35-37. 
Shelley,    Percy    Bysshe, 

32,  38-41. 
Shelley,    Percy    Bysshe, 

quoted,  37. 
Smollett,  Tobias,  26. 
Stael,  Madame  de,  30. 
Stanley,  Arthur  Penrhyn, 

57. 
Story,  William  Wetmore, 

41-42,  48,  49,  52. 
Symonds,  John  Adding- 

ton,  41. 

Tasso,  20-21. 

Thack  eray,  William 

Makepeace,  50,  51-52. 
TroUope,     Frances     M., 

46-47. 
Trollope,  Thomas  Adol- 
phus,  46-47. 

Virgil,  12. 

Walpole,  Horace,  25- 

26. 
Wilson,  Francis,  21. 
Woolson,  Constance  Fen- 

imore,  41. 


INDEX  OF  PLACES 


ALBAN  HiLLj^2I,42. 

Amerique,  Hotel,  54. 
Andrea,   S.,  della  Valle, 

Church,  7, 
Appian  Way,  5. 
Argiletum,  13. 
Augustine  Convent,  15- 

16. 

Babuino,  Via,  54. 
Barberini,  Palazzo,  23,  42, 

49,  58,  61. 
Barberini,  Piazza,  45,  49, 

58.  59.61. 
Barberini,  Villa,  12. 
Basilio,  S.,  Via,  56  bis. 
Baths  of  Titus,  13. 
Bear  Hotel,  17-18,  19. 
Bernini,  Casa,  43-44. 
Bernini,  Palazzo,  53. 
Bocca  di   Leone,  Via  di, 

50-51,  52,  56. 
Borghese,  Palazzo,  48. 
Bristol,  Hotel,  49. 

C^SAR,  Temple  of,  10, 

29. 
Caius   Cestius,   Pyramid 

of,  36-37. 
Campagna,  42,  52. 
Capena,  Porta,  5. 


Capitol,  63. 

Capitol  Hill,  14. 

Capo    di   Ferro,   Piazza, 

7- 
Carlo,  S.,  Church,  53,  54. 
Carrozza,  Via,  32. 
Cemetery,  English,  36-38, 

39,  40-41,  57. 
Churches — 

Andrea,  S.,  della  Valle, 

7- 
Carlo,  S.,  53,  54. 
Lateran,  S.John,  19-20. 
Lucia,  S.,  della  Tinta, 

19- 
Maria,  S.,  del   Popolo, 

16. 
Peter,  S.,  43. 
Trinita,  S.,   de'  Monti, 

33- 
Cicero's  Villa,  4-5. 

Ccelius,  Mount,  30. 
Colosseum,  9. 
Condotti,  Via,  46. 
Corso,  Via  del,  26,  31,  39, 

53.  54-  . 
Corso   Vittorio    Emanu- 

ele.  Via,  7. 
Costanzo,  Hotel,  42-43. 
Croce,  Via  del,  50. 
Curia,  5,  8. 


72 


Due  Macelli,  Via  de', 
56. 

English  Cemetery,  36- 

38,  39,40-41,  57. 
Esquiline  Hill,  12,  13,  42. 
Esquilino,  Piazza  dell',  56, 

Farnese,  Palazzo,  24. 
Felice,  Via,  45-46, 
Forum,  5,  6,  lo-ii,  13. 
Frascati,  43. 

Giovanni,  S.,  Porta, 44. 
Greco,  Caffe,  46. 
Gregoriana,  Via,  60. 
Grotta  Ferrata,  4-5. 

Hilda's  Tower,  64-67. 
Hills— 

Alban,  21,  42. 

Capitol,  14, 

Ccelius,  30. 

Esquiline,  12,  13,  42. 

Janiculum,  20. 

Mario,  60. 

Palatine,  4,  30,  32. 

Pincian,  5,  12. 

Quirinal,  12,  42-43,  56. 

Sabine,  21. 

Sacer,  29. 
Holy  Staircase,  16-17. 
Hotels — 

Amerique,  54. 

Bear,  17-18,  19. 

Bristol,  49. 

Costanzo,  42-43. 

Inghilterra,  52,  54. 

Italia,  41. 

Londres,  56. 


Minerva,  55. 
Orso,  17-18,  19, 
Paris,  44. 

Indipendenza,   Piazza 

dell',  31. 
Inghilterra,  Hotel,  52,  54. 
Italia,  Hotel,  41. 

Janiculum  Hill,  20. 
Julia,  Rostra,  10. 
Jupiter  Stator, Temple  of, 
4. 

Larazani,  Palazzo,  61- 

62. 
Lateran,  S.  John,  Church, 

19-20. 
Londres,  Hotel  de,  56. 
Lucia,    S.,    della    Tinta, 

Church,  19. 
Lucullus,  Villa  of,  5. 

M^CENAS,  Villa  of,  12- 

13- 

Magenta,  Via,  31. 
Maria,  S.,  de'  Fiori,  Via, 

Maria,  S.,  Maggiore,  Via, 

13-47. 
Maria,  S.,  sopra  Minerva, 

Convent,  21-22. 
Maria,    S.,    del    Popolo, 

Church,  16. 
Mario,  Monte,  60. 
Mercede,  Via  di,  44. 
Mills,  Villa,  32. 
Minerva,  Hotel,  55. 
Minerva,  Piazza  della,  22, 

55. 


73 


Muti,  Villa,  43. 

Nazionale,  Via,  46-47* 

56-57. 
Nicola,  S.,  da  Tolentino, 

Via,  43,  44.  5S-59. 

Onofrio,  S.,  Monas- 
tery, 20-21. 

Orso,  Albergo  dell',  17- 
18,  19. 

Orso,  Via  dell',  17. 

Palatine  Hill,  4,  30, 

32. 
Palazzo — 

Barberini,  23,42,49,  58, 
61. 

Bernini,  53. 

Borghese,  48. 

Farnese,  24. 

Larazani,  61-62. 

Quirinal,  23. 

Rondinini,  27,  31. 

Rospigliosa,  56. 

Spada  alia  Regola,  7- 
10. 

Verospi,  39. 

Zuccari,  53-54- 
Paolo,  S.  Porta,  40. 
Paris,  Hotel  de,  44. 
Peter,  S.,  Cathedral,  43. 
Pia,  Porta,  23,  29. 
Piazza — 

Barberini,  45, 49,  58,  59, 
61. 

Capo  di  Ferro,  7. 

Esquilino,  56. 

Indipendenza,  31. 

Minerva,  22,  55. 


Poli,  62-63. 

Popolo,  26,  54. 
Spagna,  24,  26,  32,  33- 

36,  38-39,47-48.  54. 

56  Ms,  57. 
Trinita,   S.,  de    Jvlonti, 

55k6o. 
Pincian  Hill,  5,  12. 
Poli,  Piazza,  62-63. 
Poli,  Via,  63. 
Pompey's  Senate  House, 

7. 
Pompey's  Statue,  7-10. 
Pompey's  Theatre,  7. 
Ponte — 

Rotto,  30. 

Sublicius,  30, 
Popolo,   Piazza   del,   26, 

54- 
Popolo,  Porta  del,  25,  56. 
Porta — 

Capena,  5. 

Giovanni,  S.,  44. 

Paolo,  S.,  40. 

Pia,  23,  29. 

Popolo,  25,  56. 
Porta   Pinciani,  Via    di, 

59,61. 
Portoghesi,  Via,  64-67. 
Post-Office,  General,  44. 
Protestant  Cemeter>',  36- 

38,39,  40-41.  57. 
Pyramid    of    Caius   Ces- 

tius,  36-37. 

QUATTRO        FONTANE, 

Via,  23,  46-47,  57-58. 
Quirinal   Hill,  12,  42-43, 

56. 
Quirinal  Palace,  23. 


74 


Regia,  6. 

Ripetta,  Via  di,  44,  48-49- 
Rondinini, Palazzo,  27, 31. 
Rosella,  Via,  47. 
Rospigliosi,  Palazzo,  56. 
Rostra,  5. 
Rostra,  Julia,  10. 
Rotto,  Ponte,  30. 

Sabine  Hills,  21. 
Sacer,  Mons,  29. 
Sacra,  Via,  6-7,  29. 
Sacred  Way,  '^-'j ,  29. 
Sallust,Villaof,  11-12,42. 
Scala,  Santa,  16-17. 
Senate  Hall,  14. 
Senate  House,  Pompey's, 

7. 

Shrine  of  Venus,  28-29. 

Sistina,  Via,  46,  53,  60,  61. 

Spada  alia  Regola,  Pa- 
lazzo, 7-10. 

Spagna,  Piazza  di,  24,  26, 
32,  33-36,  38-39,  47-48, 
54,  56   bis,  57. 

Spanish  Steps,  33,  38-39, 

47. 
Stranger's    Quarter,    24, 

26,  32,  33-36,  38-39,  47- 

48,  54,  56  bis,  57. 
Sublician  Bridge,  30. 
Suburra,  13. 
Susanna,  Via,  47. 

Tarpeian  Rock,  52-53. 
Tasso's  Oak,  21. 
Temple — 

of  Caesar,  10,  29. 

of  Jupiter  Stator,  4. 

of  Vesta,  6. 


Theatre  of  Pompey,  7. 

Titus,  Baths  of,  13. 

Trinita,  S.,  de'  Monti, 
Church,  33. 

Trinita,  S.,  de'  Monti,  Pi- 
azza, 59-60. 

Tritone,  Via  del,  50,  51. 

Tusculum,  4-5. 

Vatican,  63. 

Venus,  Shrine  of,  28-29. 

Verospi,  Palazzo,  39. 

Vesta,  Temple  of,  6. 

Via— 

Babuino,  54. 

Basilio,  S.,  56  bis. 

Bocca  di  Leone,  50-51, 

52.  56. 
Carrozza,  32. 
Condotti,  46. 
Corso,  26,  31,  39,  53,  54- 
Corso  Vittorio  Eman- 

uele,  7. 
Croce,  50. 
Due  Macelli,  56. 
Felice,  45-46. 
Gregoriana,  60. 
Magenta,  31. 
Maria,  S.,  de'  Fiori,  31. 
Maria,    S.,    Maggiore, 

13,47. 
Mercede,  44. 
Nazionale,  46-47,   56- 

57. 
Nicola,  S.,  da  Tolenti- 

no,  43.  44,  58-59- 
Orso,  17. 
Poll,  63. 

Porta  Pinciani,  59,  61. 
Portoghesi,  64-67. 


75 


Quattro    Fontane,   23, 
46-47.  57-58. 

Ripetta,  44.  48-49- 

Rosella,  47- 

Sacra,  6-7,  29. 

Sistina,     46,     53'     60, 
61. 

Susanna,  47. 

Tritone,  50,  51. 

Vittoria,  31. 
Vicus  Cyprius,  13. 
Vicus  Tuscus,  28-29. 


Villa— 

Barberini,  12. 

Cicero,  4-5. 

Lucullus,  5. 

Maecenas,  12-13. 

Mills,  32. 

Muti,  43- 

Sallust,  11-12,  42. 
Vittoria,  Via,  31. 

ZuccARRi,  Palazzo,  53- 
54. 


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